Brass Cased and blood lined
by 556fmj
Summary: In a world where the dead have to returned to life to feast on the living, two college Seniors join together to fight their way home. But in a world where social order has broken down and desperation is rampant, only the strong willed can survive. Review!
1. Out of the Ordinary

The line of blood

_Brass cased and blood lined._

_Chapter 1_

_Ohio _

"Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it."

Mason Krauss awoke to the sound of pounds at his bedroom door. He just moaned and rolled over as the bangs echoed again and again in his head, like tiny explosions trying to force their way out. He took a deep breath and sighed it out; sitting up as he rubbed his eyes. The previous night flashed through his memory like clips from a movie. Too much Gin, too much Windsor, and too many people he didn't know. He let his head hang back as another chain of pounds shook his door frame.

"What?" Mason moaned. He didn't want to talk to anyone, and he surely didn't want to get up. This was what Saturdays were invented for; hangovers.

"He-y, what are you doin'?" The voice of Tyler Thompson, Mason's best friend, penetrated through the wooden door. He was a good guy to wake up to; even with a hangover.

"I'm sleeping!" Mason wined loudly. He laid back down as his door creaked open. He winced as the light flickered on and Tyler walked in. H walked up to the bed with an evil smile on his face while Mason lay still with his eyes closed.

"Little boy, little boy... wake up." Tyler sighed and put his hands on his hips. He looked over the room; it was a mess. He shook his head. "You live in a pig-sty. Ish."

"Oh, fuck off." Mason rolled over on his side. "Why are you up so early? You drank last night too."

"Yea-h." Tyler said; thoughtfully. "I went home pretty early though. I'm starting to get a little bored with the whole thing. I'm pretty sure its not good for me anyway." He wandered over to Mason's desk. Mason had his laptop and pictures of his family on it. An Ohio Sate University sticker and a big Bold Map of Texas clung to the wall. It was Mason's home-state and he was proud of it. Tyler looked over the city names, slapping his legs energetically as his eyes swept back and forth. He was a Minnesota man and he liked it that way. Mason was used to the warm, mild, same old temperatures and conditions year round. Tyler had to deal with snow.

"Am I suppose to get up?" Mason asked dully; not turning over. "I don't think I'm going to."

"Well you wanna see something weird?" Most of the humor drained from Tyler's face. He had more of a _check this out _tone as he walked to Mason's TV. He clicked on the power and stepped back with his arms crossed. The sound of the every-day news caster's voice began to erupt from the TV's speakers as Mason watched tiredly.

"If this is another Terrorist attack, I'm joining the Marines."

"Just watch." Tyler hushed him.

_"Now we are getting more and more reports coming in of the same thing. The Dead returning to life and attacking the living. Our associate in the Field, David Roer, has more on this unfolding story; David?" _The Camera switched to a man standing in the middle of a city street. A line of cop cars with their lights flashing was behind him.

_"Kevin, I've been to Kosovo, I've been to Afghanistan, and I've been to Iraq, but NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING compares to this. What we first thought was a hoax seems to have turned into much, much more. It seems, whether from some type of military research or some strange phenomena, the dead... are returning to life and attacking the living. _

_"I'm standing outside an Apartment complex down-town right now, and Tactical units from both the Sheriff's Department and the Police department have it surrounded. It seems as though-_

Tyler turned the mute on and turned to Mason. He raised an eye brow and Mason looked at him with wide eyes.

"Is this serious?" Mason pulled himself up again and put his feet on the floor. He stretched; keeping his eyes on the TV.

"I guess..." Tyler shrugged. "How about that for some Good Morning America?" Mason shook his head and stood up from the bed. Dead people coming back to life? It sounded a lot like another war on terror to him. Just another reason for the American people to put their trust in the government. Oddly enough, an eerie nervousness had crept over his entire being; nearly eliminating his hangover.

"Want to go out to eat?" Tyler asked; energetically. He didn't have the character to take something like this seriously. He was too light-hearted and energetic. While he was interested in what was going on, and what would come of it, he knew that paying too much attention to it would do nothing but distract him from his real problems. He tipped his head; bored.

"Yeah, yeah." Mason responded as he sat up from his mattress. "Let me grab a quick shower."

"All right." Tyler sighed; impatiently. "Hurry up."

Mason showered quick; succumbing to Tyler's orders. Usually he'd just ignore someone's demand for his haste, but there was something about Tyler's personality that he'd always respected. The guy was appropriately laid back, but energetic in social environments. He was intelligent, but wasn't a fuck off. He was capable, but not overbearing. If there was any negative at all it was that he was a little impatient. Everyone had their kinks.

When he was done in the shower, Mason pulled on a fresh pair of Dickies Jeans and a black t-shirt and stepped in front of the bathroom mirror. He fixed his medium length brown-hair and flexed his muscles. He smiled at himself amiably and began brushing his teeth. Tyler and him were big boys. Having a College fitness center helped too, but he still wasn't happy. He needed to be ungodly big before his appetite would be satisfied. He wiped the toothpaste foam from his face and opened the bathroom door. Tyler looked at him; annoyed and impatient.

"Geez, did ya have to take a poop err what?"

"Pfft, I was in there for like ten minutes." Mason shook his head and smiled smartly as he stepped past Tyler and walked up to his roommate, Eddy's, room. He knocked on the door and opened it a crack. "Hey Eddy, I'm going out to eat. See you later." He closed the door and turned to Tyler who was snickering and shaking his head.

"What's so funny?" Mason crossed his arms casually.

"Eddy's gone. Everyone's gone." Tyler huffed. "I had to let myself in."

"Weird." Mason frowned. "Where are we eating?"

The two young men decided on Perkins as a good place to eat and they hopped into Tyler's 94 Cadillac. It was oddly still outside; like the way it was before a Tornado. It was... creepy.

Tyler pulled the Cadillac onto the road and took a left. For 1:30 in the afternoon, there was a lot of traffic. Tyler swore as a woman cut him off and sped off ahead of them.

"Geez, sure is a lot of action today." Mason rolled down his window and rested his arm on it. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth with his free hand and lit the end. He took a deep drag. "Don't see this much traffic around one very often."

"Everyone's already going crazy." Tyler said; obviously not pleased. "It's like 9/11 all over again."

"Cops" Mason motioned ahead of them with his head. At least five Squad cars cut across the intersection a block ahead of them. A few more followed suit. "A lot of fucking cops. Shit."

Tyler gripped his steering wheel hard. Something was very wrong and he had a feeling that this was just the beginning of it.

The rest of the drive was the same as the beginning. A lot of cop cars, and ambulances with their blinking lights and a lot of traffic accidents. It was a big avalanche of shit and it stank bad.

Tyler pulled the Cadillac into the "Perkins" Parking-Lot and parked it close to the door. There weren't a lot of cars there. Maybe 5. They casually walked inside and seated themselves. Mason ordered coffee while Tyler ordered his standard Mountain Dew. It was all the usual.

"I think we should go to Eric's." Tyler ran his hand through his dirty-blond, curly hair and then scratched his beard. He yawned without taking his eyes off of Mason.

"Good call." Mason nodded. "If the shit really hits the fan, we'll have nothing to worry about then."

Eric was their guns-up military buddy. He wasn't actually in the military, but he could fool a professional. His main hobby was gun collecting. He was Tyler's best friend since high school, and an avid sportsman. Both of them were from Minnesota. He'd be happy when they arrived. He liked having the company.

"Yeah..." Tyler trailed off. "I think the shit is just starting to hit the fan, and a whole bunch more shit is just waiting for its turn. I don't like where this is going." Tyler watched through the window behind Mason's back as another string of Cop cars whizzed by.

"Seriously?" Mason shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "Well, ok. I'll follow your lead."

"Excuse me, Gentlemen." Tyler and Mason looked up as their Waitress came back. She looked meek and apologetic. "I hate to tell you this, but our cook took off. In fact..." She looked around. "I think I'm the only one here now."

Tyler looked around curiously and grunted; expressing his agreement with her statement. Mason did the same; taking notice that Tyler and him were the only two customers left as well.

"Hey, don't worry about it honey." Tyler took his wallet out and handed her a twenty dollar bill. He winked at here. "Thanks for trying." He motioned toward Mason. "Let's go."

The two young men climbed out of their booth, said goodbye to the young lady, and headed for the door. It was time to get the hell out of dodge and they'd been bullshitting for long enough.

Mason lit another smoke as they walked to the car. As he brought the lighter to the end of the cigarette, a sudden, huge crashing sound caused him to drop his lighter and spin around. On the street, not 50 yards from him, a pickup had slammed into a small Grand Prix, nearly destroying the tiny vehicle. As Tyler and him stared with their mouths open, vehicles continued on their way; simply weaving around the mess that had unfolded in the road before them. No one stopped to help.

"Holy shit..." Mason said; in shock. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell-phone. "Holy fucking shit." He dialed _911 _and put the phone up to his face. As a recorded message began to play, he swore and stuck the phone back in his pocket. He turned to Tyler; he too was on his phone. Tyler shook his head; He wasn't getting through either.

"Fuck it." Tyler put his phone in his pocket and fished out his keys. He pushed the "unlock" button and opened the Driver's door. He climbed in and looked at Mason who was still staring at the vehicle. His jaw had dropped open seemingly wider than before. He slowly raised his hand and pointed at the wreckage.

"They're... they're getting out." Mason stuttered. Tyler's eyes darted to the accident. A man was slowly dragging himself out of the Grand Prix. One of his arms was hanging loosely; held on only by some ragged, torn flesh. Too add to what seemed like an already unbearably gory sight, a piece of debris was sticking out of his chest.

"Get in the car." Tyler said firmly, flatly. He sounded on the verge of panic. The wounded man seemed to have locked his gaze on them and was shuffling toward them. It looked like one of his legs may have been broken or fractured as well. An oddly empty moan erupted from the man's voice box.

Mason took a few steps backward and picked up his lighter; not taking his eyes from the man. A little more hastily, he walked to the car's passenger-side door and swung it open. He climbed in silently and Tyler backed the car out of its parking spot.

Tyler shifted into "drive" and slowly rolled the car toward the dead man. He was in the middle of the parking lot; reaching toward the car. Tyler wove around him and sighed as he got onto the road and drove around the twisted wreckage of the two vehicles. He punched the accelerator as they got onto the southward street leading to Eric's place and opened his window; leaning back as cool air hit him.

"That guy was fucking dead." Mason said anxiously. His eyes were scanning the street side nervously. If there was one, then there would be more. Then again, maybe the guy was just looking for help. He could have been. He could have been just hurt really bad and-

"He sure fucking was. Did you see his face?" Tyler cleared his throat uncomfortably and slowed the car to a stop at a red light. As he patted his hand against the steering wheel, a few cars passed them; ignoring the red light and thoughtlessly cutting through the intersection.

"All right." Tyler mumbled and accelerated as Mason fumbled for another cigarette. He rolled through the red light and coughed as he glanced around for any cops that may have been watching. Apparently they were all busy.

"I'm opting for his AKM-47S with the under-folding stock." Mason said through a puff of smoke. He huffed aggressively and shook his head; trying to sum up as much testosterone and aggression as possible. He took a deep breath and sighed as they sped down the road. He had to calm down "Five hour shifts, one at a time. Bar the back door, cover the windows... Oh and I want a 45 auto too. Fuck all that 9mm bullshit. You hearing me?" Mason was speaking out of nervousness and anxiety. He tended to chatter when things got crazy; especially when cops were around. He was handling himself well considering the circumstances.

"Yeah, I'm just going to stick with whatever he's got for a shotgun." Tyler's eyes locked onto Eric's house two blocks down from them. "I just want to keep it simple. None of that... rail stuff and all of that." Tyler wrinkled his face in discontent as he slowed the car. As he began to pull into the back alley, a pickup spun out and took off in the opposite direction.

"Looks like SOMEBODY stopped by." Mason tossed his cigarette butt onto the gravel and put his hands in his pockets. He scanned his surroundings slowly; trying to see absolutely anything and everything. It was quiet, if you counted out all the sirens in the distance. He shivered as he thought about his mom and dad. His dad would no doubt have the house turned into a fortress. He had more guns than the Sheriff's Department, plus his dad was friends with the Sheriff. Mason knew they'd be ok. He just wished he'd decided to take some guns with him when he'd moved all the way to Ohio to go to college. He was regretting his decision not to.

"Doors open." Tyler said as he walked passed Mason onto the sidewalk toward Eric's back door. "He never leaves anything opened." He ran up the concrete steps to the doorway and pushed the door inward as Mason approached behind him.

"Fu-ck me..." Tyler said as the inside of Eric's apartment was revealed. It was a mess. Everything was turned over and on the floor. Including some blood. "Eric!" Tyler stepped in cautiously. Keeping his eyes wide open; scanning back and forth. Mason stepped in behind him. His face twisted with rage when he saw the mess.

"Motherfuckers!" Mason spat. His hands clenched into fists. "I bet it was that pickup! I fucking bet it was!"

Tyler hushed Mason quietly and stepped into the kitchen. He looked left, down the thin hall. Eric's room was at the end, on the right.

"Dude..." Tyler began down the hall; slowly. "Dude, you in there?" A TV was playing loudly, but there was nothing else audible. Just Reporters' Voices.

_"You have to shoot them in the head. It seems to be the only way to make them stay dead for good. The Police Commissioner has confirmed this report, but is insisting that civilians do not exercise any forms of vigilantism. And added that anyone taking the law into their own hands will be met with lethal force."_

Tyler swung Eric's door in and gasped. Eric was lying on the floor, breathing in ragged gasps. There was blood everywhere. He darted to Eric's body and kneeled next to him. He grabbed his hand as tears began to run down his cheeks. It looked like he'd been stabbed about twenty times. He'd been there for at least a few minutes.

"Don't worry dude!" Tyler held back a sob. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be cool. Just keep breathing."

Mason kneeled down and looked, overwhelmed, at all the wounds. He didn't know which one to plug. He pulled his phone out again and dialed 911. He got the same recorded message and swore as he stuck it back in his pocket.

As Mason mumbled desperate swears, and Tyler gripped his hand desperately, Eric weakly pointed at his night-stand. He muttered something and blood ran out of his mouth, down his chin.

"What, what do you want?" Tyler leaned in; putting his ear close to Eric's mouth. "Tell me man."

"Fuckin'... pistol!" Eric spat with his last bit of energy and his body seemed to go ragged. He sighed lightly and his pupils widened, twisting his gaze into an accusing-stare. He was dead.

"O-h... o-h!" Tyler got up and grabbed his hair. His eyes bulged and he twisted his body violently away from his best friend's dead body. "O-h fuck... O-h no! No, no, no!" He shook his head, denying this reality entry into his brain. It couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening to him.

Mason dried the tears from his eyes and reached for Eric's night stand. He opened the single-drawer and reached inside. The edge of his hand bumped a small box and his fingers felt the grip of a revolver. He grabbed the revolver with one hand and the box with the other. It was a box of 38 caliber rounds. He opened it and nodded. There were ten rounds in the box, and six rounds in the gun. It was better than nothing.

"Is he going to... come back?" Mason's eyes went from Tyler to Eric, back and forth. He quickly attached the 38 Caliber Pistol's holster on his hip and slowly cocked the hammer as Tyler looked at Eric's body.

Tyler grunted hard, giving a bit of a _grrr _and shook his head. With red eyes, he locked onto Mason. He was enraged and it was obvious. He rubbed his eyes and stepped around Eric's motionless body. He reached out his hand.

"Give it to me." Tyler said; his voice on the edge of rage. His hands were visibly shaking. It was his duty to take care of his best friend. If he was going to come back, it would be Tyler that sent him to Heaven. Not some Rambo-wannabe, or some random Joe from down the street. He had to.

Mason nodded and handed Tyler the pistol. He knew both Eric and Tyler very well. He hung out with them the most. The situation had just become much more grim than it had been minutes before. No one wants to kill their friend, especially after already having to go through the pain of watching them die. Mason's shoulders slouched and he turned away. The people from the car crash had been out in a few moments. Eric would most likely do the same.

To Tyler's horror, Eric sat up. His face was pale and lifeless, along with an empty gaze. He aimed the pistol.

"Eric... Eric, talk to me. Come on man." Tyler's hands shook as he centered the revolver's sights on Eric's head. He hoped to God that Eric would recognize him. Maybe, by the grace of God, he would be just the same old gung-ho guy... just dead. Eric moaned as his eyes locked onto Tyler and he began to stand up.

Tyler squeezed the trigger and the revolver barked and jumped in his hand. Eric's head lurched back and he tumbled into the same position he'd been in before. His eyes wide open and dead. This time for good.

Mason turned to Tyler after the gun-smoke had cleared. Tyler's head hung low. He was staring at his feet. There were no tears, just silence. He put his hand on Tyler's shoulder and squeezed.

"Let me be alone with him for a minute." Tyler choked. He had a lot to say to his lifelong best friend before he left forever. He didn't want Mason standing there, making it awkward.

"Anything you want." Mason said softly. He wanted to cry more than anything in the world, but he couldn't force anymore tears out. He took a step toward the door. "I'm going to check on his stuff in the basement. Holler if you need me." He disappeared through the door.

"Remember that time," Tyler sat down on the bed; avoiding looking at Eric's assaulted body, "We were going out to Al's place and I threw that m80 out the window..." he laughed a bitter laugh, "And it came in the back window and landed in your lap." He shook his head. "And then we stuck that pipe bomb I made in that tree and it didn't go off so we just left it and when were making the fire it blew up and blew the tree in half." He shook his head; smiling at the memory. "I'm going to miss you, you know? There's really no way I can put it into words..." His eyes went to the dime sized hole in Eric's head. "I'm sorry..." He whispered. "I'm so sorry." He cleared his throat and went out the door. He had to leave now. He had to make it home.

Mason met Tyler at the top of Eric's stairway. Mason had a pissed off look printed on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and he was sweating.

"Motherfuckers took everything. Even the fucking 22's!" Mason clenched his jaw. "If we'd been one minute faster! One fucking minute we could have killed those fuckers!" He screamed in rage.

Tyler clenched his fists and punched the wall; puncturing the plaster and leaving a ragged hole. He stared into it like a dark abyss and his face twisted into a scowl.

"We have to go... now." Tyler looked at Mason. "I'm going home."

"Right." Mason nodded. "Let's go."


	2. Now Leaving Columbus Ohio

_CHAPTER 2_

_NOW LEAVING COLUMBUS OHIO_

"_Death is life's way of telling you you're fired."_

Tyler waited patiently as Mason rechecked every drawer and cupboard in Eric's house; reassuring there were no weapons left behind. It seemed their luck was remaining bad. Mason hadn't found a single bullet or gun. One or the other may have added a boost of some type of needed confidence; as little as that may have done.

Mason opened the last remaining cupboard in Eric's kitchen and grunted; he'd found something. He turned to Tyler with a hatchet in his hand.

"He hides things in weird places." Mason said as he kicked the cupboard door shut. There had been plastic cups and plates sitting inside as well. A hatchet was a bit out of place.

"He was never very organized…" Tyler grabbed the hatchet from Mason and backed up against the wall by the door. He looked at his hands. Was he a murderer? Was that the right term for shooting your best friend in the head, after he'd already died? He felt so cold.

"What are we doing?" Mason put his hands on his hips and realized he probably hadn't asked that in the right tone. Tyler's eyes burned into him. He scratched his head nervously and cleared his throat. "I mean… do you know what route you want to take? Minnesota is a long drive man." He rubbed his arm and cocked his head to the side as Tyler sighed stressfully.

"Just west. We'll stay on the interstate." Tyler wrapped his arms around himself. Things couldn't be too bad outside. There was no curfew, no Army, just cops. He motioned toward the door. "Then we'll head north whenever we have to. You know? It's Warroad Minnesota. That's where my family is right now."

"Ok." Mason walked out of the kitchen, into the entry-way. He put his hand on the door-knob and frowned. "You going to be ok?"

"Uh," Tyler shook his head slowly, "I don't know what to feel. Everything seems alien… I don't even want to think." His emotions were jumbled. Nothing felt the way it was supposed to. It was like his brain was attempting to register all that was going on around him, and the result was a cluster-fuck of adrenaline and chemicals that were sending his mental-state on a huge roller-coaster ride. He could feel a head-rush coming on.

"We're going to be ok." Mason motioned back toward Eric's room. "All this; it's a bunch of pretty boys that were too pathetic to take a stand on their own. it's a bunch of useless fucks, using another person's care to their advantage." Mason spat and growled. "He got killed because he cared about people and that's fucking bullshit." Mason turned the door knob. "I think it's time for a little payback."

Mason swung the door open and as he took his first step outside, a short girlish scream escaped his lungs. A man was at the bottom of the steps. His jaw was cocked open, and he looked almost confused. Retarded may have been a better term. Mason aimed the revolver and cocked back the hammer.

"Say something if you're not dead!" Mason chattered; the gun was shaking in his hands. The man moaned and took the first step, up. "You better not just be some Fuckin' retard!" Mason said through his teeth and depressed the trigger. The gun echoed off the neighboring buildings; the bullet leaving a small, rough hole in the mans head. His body seemed to freeze in place for a moment before he tumbled, left, over the stairway railing and onto the yard. Mason stared at the body for a moment as Tyler came onto the stairs behind him.

"Holy shit." Mason's teeth chattered. "That's a fucking rush."

"There!" Tyler pointed over near the car. An obese old woman was coming toward them in a weird, bent over shuffle. With every step she looked like she was going to crash to her face. She was moving alarmingly fast.

Mason aimed the revolver and bit his lip as he held his breath. The gun barked and the back of her head erupted into a chunky-mist. Her body fell forward into the un-kept grass. Mason whistled as Tyler darted passed him to the car. He unlocked the doors as he approached and climbed into the driver's seat.

Mason was close behind; still eyeing his kills as he walked up. He looked anxious and he was. He felt his adrenaline pumping through him; juicing him up. He had a weird feeling creeping through his entire being. It wasn't guilt, or fear. It was a weird sense of self-justification with a conservative flow of occasional self-satisfaction. He wasn't sure if it was healthy, but it was keeping him going and he figured he deserved that much.

"Dude!" Tyler's voice echoed through the alley. "Right there!" Tyler was pointing passed Eric's tiny garage.

Mason turned around and froze. A cop was approaching. He had a sick, almost sadistic scowl frozen on his face. A large portion of his neck was missing, and blood was still pouring liberally out of it. He had multiple bullet-holes in the front of his shirt. Apparently his friends had, had enough of him.

"Gimme the hatchet." Mason said flatly without taking his eyes off the cop. "Hurry up." Tyler hopped out of the car and tossed Mason the hatchet. He put the revolver in it's holster and gripped the Hatchet with both hands. "Bring it motherfuckers." Mason spat. He raised the hatchet over his head as the Cop reached an awkward arm toward him. He swung the hatchet down hard; catching the Cop's hand. The blade made a mushy-thud as it connected with tendons and bone, but the cop didn't wince. He took another step forward and Mason jumped back in surprise. He thrust-kicked the cop in the stomach; knocking him to the gravel on his back. Mason quickly straddled him; raising the hatchet above his head. As the Cop reached to grab him; Mason brought the blade down on his face. It connected right above the Cop's mouth, crushing through the bone mass of his face. His body tensed for a moment, then his hands fell to the ground motionlessly.

Mason stood from the Cop's body; tearing the hatchet out of his face as he got up. He turned to Tyler with a look of horror and shock on his face. He stumbled to the car.

"Oh my God." Tyler said; monotone. "That's brutal." He opened his door and looked around cautiously as Mason climbed in the other side. He too climbed in and started the engine. Mason didn't say anything as Tyler pulled out of Eric's driveway and directed the car back onto paved road. He was staring at his hands with wide eyes. His hands were shaking wildly as his mind deciphered what he'd just intentionally done. He couldn't believe what he was feeling. He'd dreamt of killing the enemy, but it wasn't beautiful. It wasn't art like it was in movies and videogames. He'd always claimed that he knew that, that he knew it was serious and black. He'd obviously had no idea.

Within moments of getting onto the street, Tyler could tell things had gotten exponentially worse. There seemed to be car crashed everywhere. Smoke was billowing from distant and not so distant fires in every direction; turning the sky a charred black color. Tyler couldn't help but think of Apocalypse as Emergency vehicles passed them in every which direction. There seemed to be no end.

Tyler glanced at Mason, then back at the road as he swerved around a car that was abandoned in the middle of his lane. Mason's gaze seemed to be going everywhere; he was taking in every image, every grotesque scene of violence and horror that seemed to be overwhelming the very existence of mankind. Tyler knew better. He was thoughtfully blocking out as much of the action as possible. He focused on the road; making sure to scan every bit as closely as possible. The traffic was insane.

As Tyler passed an intersection, Mason gasped and looked down at his feet. Tyler glanced in the direction Mason had been looking and a deep grunt escaped his lungs as he too tore his eyes away.

A school bus was crashed into a house. A fire had engulfed both the building and the vehicle; creating a grotesque visual no honest man could take with ease. To add to the gut-wrenching horror, a large group of people was gathered around the accident. They were pulling people out of the bus in what could have been mistaken as a rescue attempt. It wasn't what it looked like. As soon as the motionless children were pulled from the wreckage, the rescuers seemed to change gears. They began to eat the victims like Cannibalistic savages.

"Dude, I need some cigarettes… or a Dirty-thirty of Busch light." Mason held in a gag. His skin was a pale white and he was sweating profusely. "I don't- I don't know how much more of this I can handle. I'm sorry, but I need something. I smoked my last one before… before we got to Eric's"

"Yeah, ok." Tyler nodded as he looked at his fuel-gauge. He had half a tank. It would be nice to fill her up at the get-go and not have to worry about it for a while. He didn't want to get caught in the middle of some bum-fuck town while all of this was going on. "I'll fill the tank, you go inside and get what you need. Deal? Just make it quick. And don't talk to anyone." Tyler shook his head; getting frustrated prematurely. "We don't have time to be friendly." Mason had a bad habit of talking to EVERYONE he ran into out in public. He was a weird kid. Nice in public, mean at parties. Tyler didn't want him showing off his "slow" trait when they were in the middle of what was turning into a large-scale war. It wouldn't be handy.

"Who the fuck would I talk to?" Mason cocked his head; slightly offended. There went Tyler's short fuse again. He just didn't have any patience.

"Well we're going to Super-Pumper." Tyler smirked. Somehow, through the darkest hour in his life, he'd let his sense of humor shine through. Mason felt relief flow through his veins.

"O-h, well fuck that. It's probably James working. That guy just doesn't know when to stop." Mason shook his head in disgust. James was a homosexual that worked at the Super Pumper. Whenever Mason went in to pay for gas, James would be waiting to flirt. Even when Mason was defensive, or offensive for that matter, James would continue. It wasn't that Mason hated homo's or anything. He just hated when they hit on him to no end.

"Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it anyway." Tyler accelerated across the last intersection before the Super Pumper and swung the car into the parking-lot. He pulled up to a pump and raised his eye brows. "Ok, make it snappy."

Mason hopped out of the car and walked briskly across the parking-lot. He consciously pulled his shirt over the revolver that was placed securely inside it's holster. He didn't need to be hassled. He reached the doors and the warm air of the building hit him as he stepped inside. He looked around quickly; glancing in each isle as he walked to the counter. Oddly, there was no one in sight.

"Hey, anyone here?" Mason waited a moment, then started whistling. It seemed to be the most polite way to get someone's attention. Still, no one showed. Mason sighed and shook his head; no use waiting around. He turned around and screamed girlishly. James was standing before him; a dead gaze locked on his battered face.

Tyler pulled his Cadillac up to the Super Pumper's doors and put it in park. He shook after waiting a few moments. Mason was being slow of course. It was no surprise. Tyler picked up his CD case and began to page through his selection. He'd probably put in some black metal to take the edge off things. A bottle of Gin wouldn't be bad at the moment either. It seemed like absolutely anything "normal" would be God's gift. "God" Tyler grunted, there was someone that seemed completely alienated right now. He believed in God and everything, and he prayed every day, he just wasn't exactly a fan of whatever God's new game-plan was. Either way, he'd pray before the next time he went to sleep. It was a must.

Tyler jumped in surprise as a body was flung through the front-glass window of the gas-station. It looked like James. He had blood pouring out of the back of his head. As Tyler stared for a moment with his jaw half-open, Mason appeared through the front doors. He glanced at the body and casually walked to the car. He climbed in as he stuck a smoke in his mouth.

"Let's go." Mason said flatly as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag. He let the smoke billow out of his mouth slowly and leaned his head back.

"What happened?" Tyler asked; slightly in shock. His eyes went from James to Mason.

"I know he liked to flirt, but he took it too far this time." Mason looked at the revolver. He'd had to shoot twice. The first shot had hit James' mouth. He had eleven bullets left.

"O-k." Tyler drove out of the parking lot and got onto the interstate. He felt a flood of ease creep into his system. There was something about the open road that just seemed safer, more free than the city. He'd always loved to drive, though gas prices weren't exactly his ally. He set the cruise control at seventy-miles-per-hour and leaned back in his seat.

"How far can you go on a tank?" Mason coughed and turned to Tyler.

"Like 350 miles." Tyler tipped his head. "At best." He looked at his gas-gauge again. If the wind was with them, he could get a long way on 15 gallons. He'd topped the tank off too; adding at least 15 miles to their limit. He wasn't worried.

"Well, do you have an atlas, or road map?" Mason looked around the cab. "Then I can figure out where we're going to stop." Mason was obsessed when it came to planning. He looked at everything with some sort of military light to it. He waited patiently as Tyler pointed to the back with his thumb.

"In the back of my seat."

Mason reached into Tyler's seat compartment and dug around for a moment. After a second, his hand reappeared with an atlas in his grip.

"Ok, ok let me see." Mason looked at the map for a moment; tapping the page as he scanned and thought. He added the numbers in his head, estimating as best as he could before tapping a city with his pointer finger. "Harper, Illinois. Doesn't look big, but it will definitely have a gas-station, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, small is good, small is good." Tyler reduced his speed down to sixty-five miles per hour. No sense being hard on gas. He looked at Mason. "You ok?" Mason was staring at HIS hands this time. Dry blood was caked onto his cuticles and under his fingernails. The look on his face was frightening. It expressed incomprehensible guilt. Tyler knew how he felt.

"I suppose I should be asking you the same thing." Mason looked up from his hands. He hadn't quite been able to understand Tyler's feelings until now. Everything was sinking in; tearing at his very being. His morals, his ethics, and all his beliefs were now based on a very shaky foundation. Something inside both of them had been awakened.

"I keep telling myself I did him a favor." Tyler's tone emitted a swirling darkness into the car. It wasn't that Tyler was wrong. It was the fact that he was right. A world where killing your best friend was right, was a strange and ugly one that didn't seem worth fighting for.

"He's with God now." Mason said confidently. He too was a Christian, and very proud of it. He'd never argued with atheists, or other Religions that he found strange. He knew there was always going to be doubt, and his faith would be tested, but he also knew

that believing was worth it, and worth his time. Even if there wasn't a God, he wouldn't be disappointed. He'd just be dead.

"Yeah." Was all Tyler could muster out. He reached for his CD player and turned on the power. "Heavy Metal sound-track?"

"Definitely." Mason nodded. He could use some up-beat tunes to relax his nerves. He couldn't take much silence; at least not under the circumstances. It would drive him insane. That was, if that switch hadn't been flipped all ready.

Tyler put the CD into the player and turned up the volume as the car flew over the road. There was a lot of traffic, but there was some sort of undeniable peace the interstate gave off to those driving on it. There didn't seem to be any accident; at least not yet. Tyler put on his sunglasses and adjusted his seat. He was ready to get home. He looked at Mason. Texas would have to be step two.


	3. Undeniable Consequences

CHAPTER 3

UNDENIABLE CONSEQUENCES

"The Basic problems facing the world today are not susceptible to a Military solution."

-John F. Kennedy

When Mason woke up, it was dark out. He yawned as he put his seat up and looked around. It was 9:30; he'd slept for six hours.

"Where are we?" Mason asked; rubbing his eyes.

"Almost to Harper."

"All ready?" Mason noticed they weren't in the interstate, but on a Highway. Their speed was down to 55 miles per hour and it seemed slow as hell. Darkness loomed ahead of them. "How long?"

"About fifteen minutes." Tyler looked at his gas-gauge. They'd done well. He still had just under an eighth of a tank left, so even if they ran into trouble in Harper, they'd be able to at least drive out.

"See any traffic lately?" Mason lit a cigarette and cracked his window.

"Not for about an hour." Tyler shook his head. The Highway had been eerily deserted for what seemed like forever. The only thing he'd seen was yard-lights in farmyards along the road.

"Creepy." Mason muttered. He pulled the revolver out of it's holster and emptied out the fired- shells. He placed the unfired one back into the cylinder and pulled the box of bullets from his jeans. He loaded five more into it and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe this is all they left. He had like twenty-five guns at his place." Mason clenched his fists. They'd even had the guts to trash the entire place. The world was obviously spiraling out of control. How could friends do that? "An Ak-47 and an AR15 would be amazing right now… I don't think I'd be scared at all. How about you?"

"I don't know." Tyler shook his head. "I never will I guess." Tyler didn't have any answers. In six hours he'd asked himself a lot of questions that he never thought would come up in his life. He'd had to repeatedly justify his actions to himself, just so he could sit still and not break down. He still wasn't in a comfortable place, but he didn't think anyone was right now. His only hope was that he'd make it to his family's cabin without any hiccups.

"Yeah… well if things keep up," Mason huffed, "I might just have to go out and find one." He wasn't confident. He always thought he'd have that edge in any situation. He'd taken handgun courses at "Front Sight," Pistol and Carbon courses at "Blackwater" and plenty of NRA marksmanship courses just so that he'd be prepared for anything. But this was a whole different world. It was… horror at it's finest.

After ten minutes of driving, the lights of a small town appeared a few miles ahead of the Cadillac. As a wave of tension overwhelmed Tyler's body, Mason rechecked the cylinder of the revolver. The town appeared to be barreling toward them. Tyler wanted the next few minutes to last forever. He didn't want to have to stop the car again. As they always do, the minutes passed quickly and Tyler slowed the vehicle as they entered Harper's city limits. There seemed to be no traffic; Only a few cars stopped here and there in the street.

"Eyes peeled." Mason said with a shaky voice as his eyes nervously scanned his side of the street. The remaining number of bullets for the revolver kept echoing in his head, _eleven, eleven, eleven! _He felt like screaming back at his mind as his heart pounded. Either way he'd have to make due.

"Gas station!" Tyler pointed to their eleven o'clock. His pulse-rate was quickening now. He Didn't know what to expect. Even after seeing people killed in his best-friend's front yard, and putting a bullet in his own best friend's head, he felt completely unprepared for any hostilities whatsoever. He didn't want any more blood on his hands. No good could come from it.

Tyler slowed the car as he passed over a set of rail-road tracks and rolled through a stop sign as he took a left toward the gas-station. The lot had two cars in it; one at the pumps and one in the employee parking. Though the lights were on, it didn't look like there was anyone inside. He pulled the car up into the lot and parked by the pumps. He looked at Mason; seriously.

"Same game-plan as before. You go in, I'll pump gas."

"Roger. Do you want me to just start the pumps? No use using your card. I don't think anyone is going to complain." Tyler agreed with a shake of his head. "I'll be back in a flash." With that, Mason hopped out of the car. He walked quickly to the doors and stepped in.

Mason took a deep whiff of the air as he stepped behind the counter. As deserted as the place seemed, it smelled and felt so normal that he couldn't help but enjoy it. He looked at the pump controls and rubbed his chin as he figured. He had no idea which one to push.

"Pump one, go ahead." Tyler jumped as a voice came over the intercom. He swore as he realized it was Mason's. He scowled at Mason through the window and Mason just grinned an evil grin and turned to the tobacco wracks. As Tyler shook his head, Mason began filling a plastic bag with rolls of Chewing Tobacco and Cartons of cigarettes. It was nice to see Mason lightening up. He was a bit of a goody-good when it came to laws and rules. The kid hated to get into trouble, or even have an honest person angry with him. It was nothing short of hilarious to see him stealing.

Tyler smiled to himself and looked off past Mason. His heart nearly stopped. A man was walking stiffly toward Mason's back; his gaze locked onto his prey. Mason couldn't see him. He was preoccupied getting his goodies. Tyler tuned to the car. He had to do something.

"O-h shit," Mason said with excitement as he picked up a Carton of Lucky-Strike cigarettes, "I thought they stopped making these!" His eyes shot to the car as he heard the Cadillac's horn. He met Tyler's horrified gaze and everything seemed like slow-motioned from there. As the plastic bag fell to the floor, Mason spun around. He rose the gun, feeling someone's presence closing in on him. As he turned, he saw the man. He was within grabbing distance. As the man lunged, Mason fired. **BOOM! **The man's brain matter spewed over a wrack of assorted Potato-chips and his body hit the linoleum floor with a wet _smack._ Mason stepped over the body and stared at the man's face. He looked like he'd been a really nice guy when he was alive. Mason felt a bit of sadness flow through him again. Why did it have to be good people that died all the time?

"Dude!" Mason spun around. Tyler was staring at him, halfway in the door. He looked tense. "Let's go!" Mason looked past him; there were multiple dark figures approaching the lot. It was obvious that they were the dead; looking for their next meal.

Mason nodded and shot toward the door; grabbing his bag of goods as he moved. He slipped through the door before it closed and stepped onto the concrete; not breaking his run. Tyler rose from the car with the hatchet in hand. His eyes were wide and scared. He wasn't ready for this.

"Just get in, just get in!" Mason yelled. "Just get ready to-" Mason caught something in his peripheral vision and his eyes went to it. Another cop was approaching in a slow-shuffle. He was a Sheriff's Deputy with the appropriate Cowboy hat. His gun seemed to glimmer in it's holster.

"Hold up!" Mason scanned the oncoming dead; he'd have enough time to do this. He walked confidently up to the cop and stuck the revolver in his face. **BOOM! **The Deputy's face contorted as his skull's internals were spewed onto the pavement. He seemed to crumple into a pile. Mason immediately kneeled down and tore the Deputy's duty-belt off of him. As a skin and bones old man came in to grab, Mason ducked passed him and hopped into the car.

Tyler hit the accelerator before Mason even shut his door. Mason howled as he opened his window; the wind hitting him hard in the face. Some part of him felt exhilarated.

"Glock Model 17." Mason said as he eyed his new toy. "Its good, but not my favorite." He looked at the pistol-belt. "Looks like we have three full-magazines. Fifty-one bullets for the Glock, and nine for the S and W." Mason smirked and put the Glock back in its holster. "If things keep going our way, we've got ammo for sixty kills. Our luck is picking up." He happily took a tin of Skoal Winter Green out of the bag of Tobacco he'd stolen and opened it up. He put a wad of it into his mouth and leaned back as the nicotine rushed into his system.

"You almost died right there- twice." Tyler didn't take his eyes off the road. He couldn't imagine having to execute his only remaining friend in the world. The loneliness and guilt trip would drive him from sanity for sure. It was hard enough driving just when Mason was asleep. If Mason were dead, the entire plan would be a no-go. His grip tensed on the steering wheel. He really wasn't scared of the "monsters." They were the least of his worries. It was the ones who were people he knew that scared him. He didn't want to shoot anyone else he knew. He was scared he'd get used to it and he didn't want that. He wanted to remain human… to remain Tyler Thompson.

"Sorry dude… I got a little side-tracked. It just seemed so… normal in there. It felt like any other time. Then the idea of free tobacco on top of it? Yeah, nicotine cravings are a bitch." He raised an optimistic eye brow. "We got a gun too."

"You could have gotten me killed though." Amazingly Tyler didn't explode. He was calm; though his right leg was bouncing up and down out of his anxiety. He seemed more worried than mad. "Then what? Hm?" He looked at Mason and shrugged one shoulder. "Then nothing. We'd be them and it wouldn't really matter anymore."

"Sorry." Mason's face became serious. "I won't let you down again."

"Well you didn't let me down." Tyler admitted. "You just apparently have an addiction to gambling." He looked at Mason who seemed confused. Tyler laughed; breaking through his nerves. "I mean you took a big risk."

"Oh." Mason snickered. "I was wondering how Casino's had anything to do with this."

"Nothing." Tyler grunted as he reached for the radio. "I want to hear if there's any news." Tyler hit the power button and a rush of frantic voices began pouring out of the speakers. It was all the same type of news. Nothing interesting.

_"The CDC has issued a warning urging citizens to report all deaths to local law enforcement. If Law Enforcement is not available, they've given the grim instructions to remove the head of the corpse and burn the body as soon as possible. These are not your family or friends. The corpses have no recollection of past memories. They are-_

"This is some amazing bullshit." Mason squeezed the wad of tobacco in his lip; trying to get more juice out of it. He pulled out the Glock again and looked it over. He smacked Tyler in the shoulder. ""You know, I'm glad its you with me and not Ryan or Palazzo."

"Why's that?" Tyler raised an eye brow. He didn't take his eyes off the road.

"The fear." Mason smirked. "They were always scared, even when it was just Johnson or me with a gun." Mason shrugged. "You get it though. You understand the whole thing. We're just that way. Its so simple to you."

"I grew up with it." Tyler chuckled. Eric's body flashed through his mind again. The blood pooling beneath his head. He'd grown up with Eric's tendencies of violence and conflict. He'd always been an aggressive guy with something or other to prove. He'd always had a gun, and always had a cigarette in his mouth ready to pound any person that showed him defiance. Tyler felt his eye's grow teary. He really wished Eric was with them.

"He'd be a great guy to be with right now." Tyler shook his head with a frown. "We knew each other on every level. There wasn't any guess-work. I could just see whatever he was thinking in his eyes. Like he was a part of me, and like-wise."

"You guys were close. I know that." Mason clenched his fists. He couldn't believe someone had come and stolen Eric's guns. It was… so pathetic.

"Seriously," Tyler's eyes went to Mason, "Who would you feel safest with?"

"You, me, and him…" Mason trailed off; noticing his own sorrow was apparent. "Would be the ultimate trio."

"He could out-shoot you, ya know?" Tyler's voice had cynical sarcasm in it. Mason noticed. "He just had that… that thing to him. He could watch someone, be impressed, then nod and pick up the same weapon and blow them out of the water." Tyler chuckled; trying not to let tears run down his cheeks. "The gun wasn't a tool, or a separate part to him. Whatever gun he was holding… it was just an extension of him. It was a part of him."

"He did have a way of making me feel like a jackass." Mason snickered. "No ones ever done that before."

"He was… a good guy." Tyler's smile faded. "I loved him like a brother. He was always there for me. I always felt like I'd skipped out on him so many times."

"You've never skipped out on anybody." Mason patted Tyler's shoulder again. "And everyone knows that too."

"Look at that." Tyler said suddenly; pointing off in the distance ahead of them. Mason bent over and scanned the sky. Four Helicopters were gliding through the night-sky.

"Fucking right. It's about time." Tyler grinned and leaned back in his seat. "I don't think there's much that can stand up to the U.S. Military. Especially if it just moans and wanders about in a simple-minded way."

"Imagine, how many there are though." The numbers boggled Mason's mind. He imagined every household in the United States with one dead person leaving it. "There could be hundreds of thousands by now."

"Might not be enough bullets to take them all down." Tyler grunted and sighed.

"Well that's not true." Mason disagreed humbly. "There's like one gun to every four people in the world. And There's like 400 rounds to every gun. SO, 100 rounds per person. I'm just estimating though."

"Yep, someone reads gun statistics too much." Tyler said sarcastically; rolling his eyes. Mason just smiled in response. He opened his Skoal again and put in a new wad of it.

"What do you feel right now?" Tyler asked, but he didn't look away from the road. "Like, just in general, what are you feeling?" He wanted to reassure himself that things were as bad as he thought they were, and that someone else was experiencing the same feeling. He needed to know.

""Like I have no idea… what to do. I don't know whether we should go left or right at every turn, or to just go straight. I don't know man." Mason shook his head. "I don't think there any way I can make it home. Not in this. The mess is too big for us to not get dirty."

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Tyler shushed him. "We'll take it step by step."

"Yeah. How about you? What are you feeling?"

"I'm scared," Tyler said with a sneer and a shake of his head, "Not for me. For everyone else. Every person I've ever known might be dead, or in the process of dying. I just hope to God we can figure out what's going on. We always sort this shit out… well not this shit, but shit in general. Something's different about this though…"

"I think we can be ok." Mason said modestly.

"Well, we're not yet." Tyler shook his head. "We're not and no one's laughing."

"We still got each other." Mason shrugged. "That's something."

"I need a break soon." Tyler yawned without responding and rubbed his right eye with his palm. He'd been driving for a while now and he really didn't want to die by driving into the ditch.

"Right." Mason said blankly. "Anything you want dude." he stayed quiet as Tyler slowed the car to a stop at the side of the road. He looked at Mason and smiled; smartly.

"How do I look?"

"Like hell." Mason chuckled. "Get in the back asshole."

"Right, good idea." Tyler climbed into the back seat as Mason went around the car to the driver's seat

"How bout some tunes?" Mason shouted as he slammed the door.

"Yeah, whatever." Tyler said as he laid himself down in the back seat. "Just not too loud."

Mason turned on Tyler's Ipod and found "Message in a bottle" by the Police. It seemed up beat enough, yet soft enough for Tyler to sleep.

"Warroad, Minnesota here we come." Mason took a deep breath and pushed on the accelerator. It was going to be a quiet night.


	4. Infinite Destruction

CHAPTER 4

INFINITE DESTRUCTION.

"_I'd rather die when I'm living, than live while I'm dead."_

_-Jimmy Buffett_

_"No, no, no these people are fucking dead. You have to fucking kill them all and hope that we snuff this fucking thing out!"_

_"Mr. Nelson, please check your language. We ARE live."_

_"Fuck that! The FCC doesn't give a shit about fuck right now! Have you seen what's happening outside your fucking office window? The Military isn't even distinguishing between dead and undead. They're fucking killing everything! Everyone is the enemy now!"_

Mason shook his head. He'd made the unwise decision of turning on the radio around 2:00am and after two and a half hours he'd heard just about every perspective imaginable on this real, live apocalypse. A part of him knew that he should just turn it off, and ignore what he could. People had so many ideas of what was going on that it ended up jumbling what was real in with all the garbage talk. On the other hand, hearing what was going on in the surrounding area was giving him some insight. Apparently the National Guard had a few screws loose and was turning the civilian population into live targets. It was that information he found useful, as sickening as it was.

As more foul mouthed garbage began to pour out of the speakers, Mason changed the channel. _"It is unclear whether this strange phenomena is the result of nuclear, or chemical weapons, or the disastrous outcome of some type of medical research. The President has not-" _He switched the dial again.

_"Ok, next caller. Caller, you're on the air."_

_"It's god… The end is approaching. We've all pushed him out of our schools, our offices, and our lives. No one goes to church anymore, and all people pray about is what they want. God's wrath is here. There's no end to it. It's our fault."_

_"Caller, you're on the air."_

_"Who cares what the fuck caused this! Get your guns and get the hell out of dodge man. The only people who are going to survive are the ones who are willing to take a stand and do what they have to do. This is why we have the second amendment, so we can defend ourselves when the shit hits the fan. All those soccer moms and liberals that want to take your guns away… yeah, they're all dead. Shows how smart and right they were." _Mason raised his eye brows as he switched the power off.

"Well at least things are getting better." Mason said out loud as he scanned the road before him. It was weird how an outlook on life could change so fast. So many doors could close in the blink of an eye, but along with them some also seemed to open. Life was a tease though. It was a beautiful woman wearing booty-shorts saying _you can look, but you can't touch._ Any man whose experienced that knows the frustrations that go along with it.

Only two days earlier Mason had been bent on being a cop. He'd wanted the badge, the gun, the authority. Even with all the stressors that went along with it, it seemed too perfect for his personality. The sarcastic side of him was impressed with the idea that God had done this just so he wouldn't get his dream job. That was all fluff though. God wouldn't kill thousands of people just to give Mason a thorn in his side. Yet, the cynical idea stuck with him.

Mason yawned as he passed a pickup abandoned on the side of the road. Before all of this had begun, if he had a bad day he'd tell himself _Well its not going to kill me. _The self-motivating line had become so untrue that he just about had to laugh it away. He figured he might as well continue to use it. After all, maybe it would make him stronger in some way. The mind was just as strong as the body, if not more so.

The dash-board dinged and Mason's eyes locked onto the red light that was glowing beside the gas-gauge. It was the low-fuel light. It looked like he'd have to wake up Tyler. He turned part way to the back and grinned. Tyler was drooling onto his "Iron Maiden" T-shirt. If he didn't have to, he wouldn't wake his best friend. The scene was too funny.

"Dude, time to get up." Mason put his eyes back on the road. "Holy shit!"

"WHAT!?" Tyler snapped out of his sleep as Mason slammed on the breaks. Straight ahead of the car, a person was running alongside the road. The car skidded to an abrupt halt. And both the young men stared at the pedestrian in astonished amazement.

Mason rolled down his window and Tyler watched in silent surprise as what appeared to be a teenage boy ran up to the car.

"Hey buddy…" Mason said; monotone, "Need a ride?" He looked the kid over. His face was cut up and he was clutching his arm against his body.

"My arm!" The kid groaned. "I-I think its broken!" It obviously was. The bone was almost pushing through the skin like a disgusting bulb; moving around beneath the flesh.

"Ok, Ok!" Tyler opened the back door and climbed out. Oddly, his heart-rate had increased more than when they were in Harper getting gas. Dealing with people was more complicated than shooting at them. It was a startling discovery. "Get in the car; carefully." It was a sorry sight. The kid looked destroyed; with tears of both pain and utter shock running down his cheeks. A warzone was no place for a kid. Then again: a warzone wasn't a place for anyone.

As Tyler helped him, the kid climbed into the back seat. Tyler knelt outside the door and leaned in close to look at his injury. As Tyler grimaced at the sight, Mason climbed out of the car and took a look himself. He made a disgusted grunt and shook his head.

"Yeah, you fucked your arm up good." Tyler cleared his throat and stood up. He had no idea what the boy had gone through and part of him wasn't excited to find out. Curiosity always won the battle though. The kid's face was almost purple. The pain had to be excruciating. "What's your name buddy?"

"Braden," Braden gasped, "Braden Ambry." He pointed down the highway. "My friend- he crashed the car. I think he's dead." More tears ran down Braden's face. His morning had gone from bad to terrible in a matter of hours. There seemed to be no escape from the infinite destruction around him.

It was the previous night that Braden's dad had sent him to stay with his friend Kellen. Kellen lived on a farm, several miles outside town. It was supposed to have been safe. If Kellen's grandfather hadn't passed away in his sleep it may have been, but his body had returned to life and killed Kellen's father. From there, it had been a blood bath. Braden and Kellen had hopped into Kellen's dad's Sunbird and made a mad-dash away from the farm and the city. It had ended in disaster.

Kellen never saw the man on the road. He had been dead for sure. With his arms stretched toward the car, he'd wandered onto the highway before them. Kellen had hit him at seventy-five miles per hour. The car rolled. Kellen hadn't had his seat-belt on.

"Where's the accident?" Mason asked calmly. He was worried about the kid and felt bad for him. The sight of the arm almost made him nauseous. He knew that it hurt. It reminded him of when he'd broken his arm wrestling in High School. The pain was enough to make him puke.

"Like- a mile." Braden pointed down the road again. "We have to hurry." He pleaded desperately. "I don't want him to die- I don't want him to die."

"Fuck it, let's go." Tyler passed Mason and climbed into the car. Mason grimaced in disgust and slammed the back door. He hopped into the driver's side seat and pulled out the Glock 17 as Tyler sped the car up to seventy-five miles per hour. If the boy was alive, they wanted to get there as soon as possible.

It didn't take long for Tyler to spot the car. It was half-way in the ditch, lying partly crushed, upside down. It was a grizzly sight. It was a wonder that this blond, Aber-Crombie model-looking teenager had survived at all. He was a living miracle.

"I got this." Mason said; checking the 9mm's chamber. He didn't see any body wandering around the crash, so either the whole thing was over, or the kid was still alive and couldn't move. He was going for the first part; though it would mean the death of another innocent person. He would never want to be the one to have to choose.

Tyler rolled the car to a stop and Mason stepped out of the car silently. He squeezed the Glock's grip nervously and scanned the dark cab. With every step, he pictured a little kid butchered to nothing; holding in his guts. He felt a bead of sweat go down his cheek. It could be bad, or it could be terrible. There were no other possibilities... not that day.

Mason knelt down and looked into the destroyed car. He could see the outline of a body, but that was it. He had no flash-light, but he had a lighter. He quickly dug around in his pocket and found it. It was his Zippo. His dad had bought it for him as a sarcastic gift. He'd never liked Mason smoking. That was Mason's rebellion though. There seemed to be nothing worse than smoking to piss off parents. Though Mason loved to drink, Mason's dad had known every kid drank. After all, the two had drank together on more than one occasion after a long day's work in the Texas heat.

Mason struck the flint and the cab lit up instantly. He frowned sadly as he saw Kellen staring up at the floor of the flipped vehicle. He was still breathing and his eyes were open. Mason didn't want to say anything. It was like going to your best friend's mom's funeral. You wanted to be supportive, but what could you say?

"I- can't move." Kellen said in a dazed, raspy voice. Tears were running down his face. Mason crawled into the cab, avoiding the broken glass that was everywhere, and got up next to him. He grabbed Kellen's arm firmly.

"Can you feel that, buddy?" Mason swallowed hard. He knew what the answer would be, but he didn't want to accept it. The kid was so innocent looking; no older than 15. He had so much ahead of him.

"No." Kellen sniffled. "I can't feel anything. It doesn't hurt."

Mason felt a flow of morbid sickness overwhelm him. He knew he couldn't take the kid. Moving him would probably kill him. The options were slim.

"I can't move you." Mason said softly; trying not to let Kellen know he was crying. "What do you want me to do? Its your call." Mason knew what the answer would be before he heard it.

"I want to see my mom." Kellen cried; forcing more tears to pour down his face. "I don't want to be alone. I wanna go home, I wanna go home!" He sniffled some more, then, in defiance to fear, he sucked up his tears and held his stature. "Shoot me." He whispered. "Shoot me."

"I'm going to give you a few seconds to think about this." Mason said darkly. "I want you to be sure." Mason scooted up next to Kellen and grabbed his hand. He squeezed it gently and looked into the dying boy's eyes. "You say when."

"Do you believe in God?" Kellen's voice was brave. His fear at his time of death and diminished as Mason had seen in the elderly before. He knew it was time and he'd discovered the peace to accept it. Mason was more than impressed.

"Today's a bad day to ask me that- I mean yeah." Mason nodded. "It's kind of hard sometimes, you know? Before all of this I'd lose a girlfriend and I'd get mad at God for letting her go. I'd get in a fender bender and curse him. Now you come to this." Mason sighed and shook his head. "People thought things were so bad before, but they weren't. Now all we want is for God to make things normal again. I don't know if I love him today, but I DO know he exists. I just know." Mason looked into Kellen's eyes. He could say no more."

"I'm ready." Kellen closed his eyes and Mason put the gun up to his head. He squeezed the trigger and the muzzle flash lit up the car and blew out the lighter's flame. Mason didn't re-light it. He knew the results.

"Dead?" Tyler asked as Mason climbed silently out of the car. Mason didn't respond. He staggered over to the edge of the road and leaned with his hands against his knees. What horrible things had he done to deserve such an experience? What had Tyler done? This had been no test. It was plain torture.

Mason looked off into the distance; over a field that stretched as far as he could see. There was a tractor stopped in the middle of it. It was amazing how beautiful a field could be, even in a time of death and destruction. It was the definition of peace and serenity. It was strange how those things could be ignored and unnoticed before. How could he not know? He'd lived amongst it for years. Thunder roared in the distance and Mason looked to the sky as the wind began to pick up. Gray clouds were beginning to roll in from the west. It would begin to rain soon.

"You ok?" Mason felt Tyler's hand on his shoulder and he turned to him. "What happened?"

"I shot him." Mason spat at the ground and kicked his foot on the pavement anxiously. His face distorted into a desperate glare and then he began to cry. "What are we doing dude?! I can't keep doing this! I can't!" Mason put his face in his hands. "He was a kid! Just a fuckin' kid!" He wiped the tears away with his sleeve as Tyler watched him silently.

"I shot my best-friend in the head." Tyler said flatly. "Don't tell me what you can and can't do." With that, he turned and walked back over to the car. He climbed into the driver's seat and looked at Braden in the rear-view. The kid looked gone. His mind was in a different place; an empty place. Tyler felt like going there too. His own words echoed in his head and Eric's face flashed before his eyes. He could do nothing to change what had happened. All he could do to justify it was to live. He had to live and he wanted as many people beside him as possible.

Mason climbed into the car and looked at Tyler as he slammed the door. He looked angry, very angry. He put the Glock between his legs and rolled down his window.

"If I don't get to sleep in a fucking bed soon," he shook his head, "I'm tired of this fucking car. We need to chill somewhere for a while. Just for a fucking while." He didn't really care about being in the car, he just wanted to complain about something. He couldn't help it.

"Calm down." Tyler shifted into drive and pressed on the accelerator. "We're about one third of the way there. We can't run into too much more of this."

"Huh?" Mason looked at him with wide eyes, then shook his head out of frustration. "Whatever." He couldn't keep his anger in. He was broken and he knew it but that was the first step to regaining control. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head. He didn't get angry often, but when he did it ended up being bad. The Police had been involved before. He reopened his eyes and clenched his teeth. "Your friend..." Mason trailed off; looking at Braden in the mirror. He shook his head. Braden wasn't looking at him. He knew what had happened.

"Gas, food, anything else?" Mason looked at Tyler with renewed energy; forcing Kellen out of his mind. Tyler was right; he needed to stay calm and collected. He'd done what he had to and that was that. There was no use leaving a kid to become another walking corpse. No one wanted that.

"Well," Tyler looked at Mason with a cocked eye brow. The lights of town were closing in extremely fast. "I think that's it. Same plan as before?"

"Yeah.' Mason nodded. "I'm going in with the Glock. You two stay at the car. If I don't get back by the time they're within ten yards, then just go."

"Fuck that." Tyler shook his head as rain-drops began to hit the windows. "I'm not doing this alone. I can't." The idea of being completely alone terrified him. When he used to have roommates, he'd always want his alone time. He'd always want at least half a day when no one would talk to him. Now was different. If you were alone for a day in this, you'd be alone forever.

"Do what you have to." Mason stared out the window. All the lights were still on in the town, but traffic was nil once again. That was the only similarity to Harper though. This place was much more grim.

Every household in Launceston seemed to have something terribly wrong with it. The first had every window broken and the front door was opened. The second had a car half-way out of the garage with its doors opened and bags of groceries sitting outside of it. The third one Mason took his eyes away from. It was a beautiful, yellow house with three stories. It would have looked casual if a toddler hadn't been hanging from her neck outside an upstairs window. There was no peace in Launceston.

"O-h fuck." Tyler spat and clenched his hands around the steering wheel. There were small groups of dead-looking people already appearing from all over the place. It was almost comical the way the people looked. Desperate and dead-eyed women and men of all physiques. They appeared almost like clowns banding together. "Where's the fucking gas-station?" Tyler glanced frantically at Braden in the rear-view mirror.

"There-There straight ahead!" Braden pointed down the street, breaking out of his thousand-yard stare. He'd lived in Launceston his whole life. He knew it like the back of his hand. "Go to the second pump! The first one doesn't work!"

Tyler swerved around 3 corpses and clenched his teeth as his eyes jumped to the gas-gauge. They wouldn't make it much further. It would be a terrible joke for the car to run out of gas on them right then. He increased his speed slightly; just in case. That way, they could just roll it to the pumps.

"You keep that fucking door covered." Mason hissed. "If I run into one of those fuckers when I step out the door I'm going to be pissed." He looked at the Glock and cleared his throat as they passed a dead-old man. His throat was missing and dried blood was caked to his neck.

"You got it!' Tyler yipped and swung the car onto the gas-station's lot. He passed the first pump and Mason jumped out before the car halted abruptly at the second.

"Fuck me running." Tyler said nervously as he got out of the car and walked up to the pump. He grabbed the pump and his eyes went to the road as he waited for the fueling-sequence to begin. He could smell the dead; even through the thick scent of Spring rain. They were close too. Moving in, one by one. He could see them shuffling steadily along; their gazes going to nothing but him. They were robots, not people. He couldn't believe how badly he wanted to shoot them. Every single one of them. They were no longer beings to him. They were stress balls; just there for him to express his rage. He'd get his chance. He knew he would.

The door slammed behind Mason as he stepped, enraged, into the gas-station. His eyes locked onto movement instantly, disrupting the small store's odd serenity. He raised the Glock. A man was staring at him, walking awkwardly around a low-set isle to get to Mason's position. He was old, maybe sixty-five or seventy; Such a skinny man. He was wearing the standard old-man western shirt and a pair of slacks. Mason centered his sights and pulled the trigger; blowing the man's head open and spewing the content's onto the Cappuccino Machine behind him. He fell straight onto his face and Mason turned to the Counter.

Mason stepped up to the cash-register and stepped up to the controls. The controls were easier than in Harper. He pressed "enter." And looked up when he heard a sound. A door was swinging in the back and a guy in coveralls was walking toward him. A moment later, a second man appeared dressed in matching attire.

"Fuckin' primitives." Mason spat on the floor and raised the pistol as he walked. He clenched his teeth in anger as he looked them over. They were dead, mindless fucks. He wanted their brains on the wall, on the floor, on the isles. He wanted them smashed into mush. If only he had more bullets.

As Mason stepped passed a small, unlit hallway, a woman lashed out and grabbed his arm. Mason fell backwards in surprise; landing in the blood that had polled beside the dead old man's head and dropping the gun. The woman came at him immediately; thrashing violently at his face; trying to come in for a bite. Mason held her up with all of his strength; looking desperately for the gun. He spotted it to his side, but he didn't have a free hand to grab it. He looked down the isle passed her and grunted in fear. The men were only a few yards away. Mason scowled at the woman and pulled her in a little closer.

"I shoulder press a lot more than you bitch!" Mason thrust all of his shoulder strength and the woman flew back and tumbled to the floor. As he'd practiced many times; Mason rolled to his side, grabbed the gun, and rolled again onto his back. He trained the sights and double tapped the trigger; putting two holes into the thigh of the first man. As the first one fell; Mason quickly re-aimed; centering the sights on the second man's head. He squeezed the trigger and blew a hole in his eye; pink-misting his brain onto the ceiling. Brain matter rolled down his cheek and he fell into a pile. The woman was just getting back up as Mason brought the gun to her. He fired once and her jaw shattered. She fell onto her butt and looked around stupidly for a moment as blood drained onto her blouse. Mason fired again; puncturing a hole in her skull and spraying clumpy goo all over the floor behind her. She fell back and Mason climbed to his feet. He looked down the Glock's sights as the first man was trying to stand with a shattered leg. He stuck the gun against his head. "Eat it bitch." Mason blew his skull into bits and looked over his kills. He tipped his head; impressed.

"How's it hangin'?" Tyler asked anxiously as Mason walked up to the car with a bag full of food and water. Tyler was staring at the street; counting the bodies approaching. He had the revolver in his hand; ready to shoot.

"Just the way I like it." Mason responded dryly. "Get in the car." He rested his arms on the top of the car and aimed down the sights. A woman in scrubs was approaching quickly. It was amazing how quickly Mason had lost his feelings for these thins that used to be people. How could he feel bad? They'd caused so much destruction. He shot her in the head and she fell like rock. He climbed into the car and scratched his nose as Tyler began to drive. But why was God doing this to man? Man had caused the same amount of destruction, if not more. It was all even. They'd had it coming.

"Something happen?" Tyler looked at Mason's un-impressed expression. "I heard you shoot."

"Just a few less horrors in the world." Mason lit a cigarette and pulled a sandwich out of the plastic bag. "You like ham or Turkey Braden?"

_Thanks for all the reviews guys. It keeps me writing. _

_Just to let you know, I will be revising chapter one in the near future. The ACTUAL Tyler Thompson read it and he said he thought it was good, but I need to re-write it. So that's what I'm doing._

_Boltaction15 asked: "_what do you prefer? the AKM47 variants, or Ar-15/m16 type firearms? just wondering." _Your question is not easy to answer. If I were in a dawn of the dead scenario, I would most likely choose the most reliable weapon which would lean toward the AKM of course. YET, the accuracy of the M-16 series is hard to beat especially when equipped with selected accessories. That said; I really can't make up my mind. All in all, I prefer the AR-15 when I go shooting. The possibilities are endless with that gun. It seems to be only limited by the end-user's imagination. _

_Sorry it took me so long to update. My work schedule is a little fucked up. Thanks!_

I will update as soon as possible. I am now starting college and it is difficult to find the time. Please bare with me.


	5. Take it as it comes

CHAPTER 5

TAKE IT AS IT COMES

"_The best place a person can die, is where they die for others."_

"This seems to fit the mood anyway." Mason tiredly rubbed his eye brows as the rain spattered the wind-shield. The gray outside was so thick it seemed to engulf even the inside of the Cadillac's cab. It was depressing, and seemed to echo the odd and awkward feeling that had overwhelmed everyone in the car. It seemed God had finally decided to cut away the optimistic rays of sunshine that had been shining on them for most of the trip. It was the right timing.

"What's the next town?" Tyler asked through a yawn. He'd managed to block out the mixture of traumatic experiences and god-awful weather they'd experienced all morning. A part of him didn't feel anything from their stop in Launceston. He didn't feel bad about Mason killing anyone, not even the young boy. Was that sane? He could do nothing, but wrinkle his nose. He didn't really want to bring Mason into his mental collage of gray, lifeless thoughts. He'd just make things more complicated with his own take on the entire operation.

Tyler knew in his heart what was happening. His mind and body were adapting. As much as he'd hoped to fight it, he knew that even his personality would change, and then his demeanor. Was it bad? Not necessarily. All it did was make him sick.

"Umm, let me check." Mason looked around a moment for the Atlas, but Braden's youthful voice cut in.

"Pembleton." Braden croaked. He had a hard time looking up from his arm. The bone protruding almost through the skin was unbearably disgusting. He wanted to puke.

"How big?" Mason looked back at Braden and eyed his arm. Deep in the back of his mind, he was glad it was Braden's arm and not his own. He'd hardly be able to defend himself with just one arm, and then they'd all be nearly defenseless.

"About twenty-five." Braden let his head lean back against the seat. The pain was pounding with every heart-beat. He didn't know how much more he could take.

"Twenty-five people?" Tyler asked in surprise. "Is there even a gas-station or anything?" He knew less people would be better, but having options was a good thing. In a town of 1500 or less, there was also the possibility of survivors. That would be a nice addition to a dreary day.

"No, 25,000 people." Braden corrected him.

"Fu-ck me." Tyler shook his head. "No way, we can't do that."

"No shit." Mason sat up. The emotions in the car had become instantly tense. They didn't have the supplies to go into a hotbed of sweltering dead people. "Well we don't have to go there or anything. I mean, we've got three quarters of a tank of gas, food left over, and a couple mags of ammo left. We can just go around if we want to and hope we come to something better."

"Yeah, I think that's going to have to be the plan." Tyler grunted; shifting in his seat. "It would be tough looking after Jesse McCartney back there too." Tyler smirked sarcastically and looked in the rear-view.

"Fuck you." Braden gave him the middle-finger. "I don't look like him."

"The fuck you don't." Mason snickered. "You look just like-

The front window of the car seemed to explode from nothing. The dashboard splintered and the car swerved as Tyler tried to steer clear from whatever had caused the damage. The tires squealed on the wet pavement as they began to hydroplane and the car went violently sideways into the ditch, coming to a dead and silent stop in the long-grass.

"Fuck!" Tyler yelled as he slammed the steering wheel. "FUCK!" Things always seemed to happen to his Cadillac. It was never his pickup, or his Grand Marquis. It was just the Cadillac.

"Fuckin' bullet holes." Mason said; enraged as he looked through the broken glass onto the hood. Several ragged holes were obvious. "Fuckin' bastards." Mason looked at Tyler. "You ok dude?"

"Yeah," Tyler nodded; he'd strained his neck somehow, but he was in one piece. That was the most he could ask for.

"How about you Bra- FUCK!" Mason climbed into the back seat. Braden had multiple ragged holes in his blue and white Polo-shirt. Blood was pouring out profusely and he was staring, in shock, down at them.

Tyler was immediately out of the car. He stepped to the back door and pulled it open. He put his hands on a wound in shocked-desperation; not wanting to believe what had just happened. He didn't even notice the rain coming down on him. It seemed to be zoned out by this weird sort of focus that had come over his senses. He could see nothing but Braden, nothing but this young, innocent boy and the life that was so quickly draining out of him. Tyler's eyes went from him to Mason. Mason was yelling something, but Tyler couldn't seem to hear it. It was like his ear-drums had been blown out.

"Hold it tight!" Mason roared; pushing harder on one of Braden's gaping wounds. They looked like the result of a 7.62 bullet in the rib-cage of a deer, but the blood seemed to be worse. Mason gagged as he smelled it. The odor from a live-person seemed to be so much more pungent than that of one of the corpses. It was the body temperature and the warmth of the blood. It was disgusting.

"What do I do, what do I do?!" Tyler stammered; wide eyed and freaked out by this instant horror that had just played out before him. He had no training in this, he'd never had a desire for it. All he wanted was to be an engineer, not a killer. He was glad Mason had a different outlook on things.

"Just hold it tight!" Mason clenched his teeth. "He's going into shock!" Mason's expensive out-of-the-pocket training ran through his mind at overwhelming speeds. He never thought he'd have to use any of it in his lifetime. It had always seemed to be some sort of pipe-dream. He was disappointed that it wasn't. After experiencing it, he never really HAD wanted to shoot at someone and he surely never HAD wanted to have to save someone from wounds inflicted during combat. The only thing he wanted now was to have the supplies to deliver positive results. That he didn't have.

"Who shot me?" Blood ran out of Braden's mouth and onto his shirt. He was running out of life quickly and he seemed to know it. His voice was weak and dull.

"Some asshole dude, just some asshole!" Mason winked at him; trying his best to sooth the boy and keep him from slipping away. "Just keep talking to me and you'll be good to go. Just talk to me buddy. You got a girlfriend? What's her name?"

"Katie Prussman- she's a year younger than me. She's kind of a bitch though... don't waste a bullet on me." Braden coughed and more blood came out of his mouth. His breathing seemed to be slowing down. Tyler stared in worry and disbelief. He didn't know what to say. He could only watch Mason do what he was trained to do.

"Shut up dude and tell me about this bitch." Mason kept his eyes on his hands; trying desperately to plug up the wounds. He knew it was impossible, but he wouldn't let himself stop.

"Don't waste a fucking bullet on me!" Braden snapped. He took another breath and a wet sigh escaped his lungs. His body went lifeless and he stared accusingly at the front seat.

"Fuck!" Mason sat down hard on the seat next to Braden and grabbed his hair with both hands. He'd done his best and he knew it, but it still hadn't been enough. Nothing seemed to be enough anymore. The shit just kept rolling in non-stop.

Tyler turned from Braden's body and scanned the horizon. There had been no more gunfire. Whoever had shot up the car was either gone, or coming closer to finish them off. He didn't know whether to be scared or relieved. The end was looking better by the hour.

"Get the tire iron." Mason said and Tyler turned back to him.

"What?" Tyler spat; shocked. "You're not gonna use that on him?" Tyler knew what Mason had in mind. It was outrageously disgusting and to him out of the question.

"Hurry up, we've only got a minute." Mason grabbed Braden's legs and pulled him out of the car. He was going to respect the young man's final request. It was the best he could do to give him peace.

Tyler silently shook his head as he pressed the trunk-release button inside the glove-box. He didn't want to be involved with this. He knew Mason had good intentions but the human mind could only take so much before it snapped. Mason was beginning to show signs of shell-shock.

Tyler opened the trunk and took out the tire-iron. He tossed it to Mason and Mason took a deep breath as he looked down at the body. He'd seemed like such a good kid. In this though, everyone seemed good. If they weren't trying to bite you, or shoot you then they had good qualities. He could only imagine how many good kids had died in the past couple of days. He straddled Braden's body and shook his head as a desperate laugh escaped his mouth.

"This is so fucked." Mason stared at the tire Iron. "How the fuck am I supposed to get this into his-"

The Glock's muzzle blast roared and Braden's head lurched to the side; a neat, tiny hole had been punctured through the side of his head. Mason turned slowly to Tyler. He was standing a few feet away with the Glock still aimed. He let it down slowly. His eyes were dark and sad.

"I can't let you go through that." Tyler stared at Braden's face, but no tears fell from his eyes. He had no more tears to shed.

"He wanted one fucking thing!" Mason roared, throwing his hand through the air and stepping aggressively toward where Tyler was standing. "He didn't want to get fucking shot! Can you fucking listen to anyone?! What the fuck?!" Mason turned to Braden and a desperate scream erupted from deep inside him. So many things were running through his head that he couldn't slow down. He put his palms in his eyes and stopped dead. Tyler watched him silently as he waited for Mason to say something. He knew it was coming.

"You know that song by Pink Floyd? The Fletcher Memorial Home... Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye." Mason smirked. "That's us." He rubbed his arm and took a deep breath. He held it for a moment, then let it out slowly and walked up to the hood of the car. Tyler watched quietly as Mason ran his fingers over the multiple bullet-holes in the hood.

"Helicopter." Mason said calmly. "Definitely a machine-gun. See the angle of the holes?" Tyler walked up and looked at the puncture holes and his shoulders slouched as he shook his head. Mason turned away from the car and put his hands on his hips. He scanned the horizon slowly and sighed. "Fucking Guard I bet." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He never thought he'd see the day where his own military was the enemy. They were the people he'd always looked up to and loved. It had mutated into a subdued hatred that he didn't know how to express. He had a feeling that he'd get the chance.

"I have to admit something." Tyler said softly; leaning on the car. He was on the edge of breaking and he didn't know how to say it. He didn't know anything anymore. "I don't know what to do anymore." He scowled. He'd never felt so much pressure building up in him before. Through all the frustration and tests that he'd felt he'd gone through in the past eight years both mentally and physically, he'd never felt so strained in this amount of time before. There was a weird compromise though; while everything was a test and everything had its fair share of risk, everything also was seeming to be free. When they ran out of gas, they took a risk and went to a gas-station. When they needed guns, they took them. He figured it would be the same with everything else. It was weird. As much as he complained about life before this; he did wish he could just go to work rather than "Go to risk."

"Give me the Glock." Mason reached out his hand. Tyler handed it to him and ran his hand through his hair.

"What's running through your head?" Tyler crossed his arms and looked into Mason's eyes. Mason checked the Glock's chamber to be sure it was loaded and took a deep, shaky breath as he slipped it into the holster on his hip. His eyes became stern and angry as his gaze went off into the distance.

"No more bullshit. Off the main roads and into the dark. No more rolling into places without an objective, and we're not taking another step toward Warroad until we're armed and capable." He took a breath and closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "You have to be with me on this Tyler." He looked at Tyler firmly. "If we keep doing what we're doing, we're both going to die in some really lousy way. You have to be willing to do whatever you have to do, wherever you have to do it. Are you with me?"

"Nothing's that simple." Tyler grumbled and turned away from him. The human mind was too complicated to just make a decision like that at the flip of a switch, He wouldn't know if he could do it until he got into a real bind. He didn't want to have to do anything, but he knew Mason was right. If they didn't do something different, they were going to die.

"Nothings as complicated as it seems either though. Listen, there's a whole lot of people out there thinking a whole lot of things. But, its the people who have decided that they're going to do whatever it takes that are going to go the furthest. You getting me?" Mason knew what he had to do; what he was good at. He'd shoot, and live until he could do it no more. He knew he'd be haunted, but it was better to be haunted and live, then to go into a vast darkness for eternity. At least he thought so.

"I'm in." Tyler nodded. "So what's step one?"

The direction they took was Tyler's choice. Without much hesitation, they went to the right of the Highway and began cutting through a field. They had no real goal yet, but they both knew that one would present itself. Goals had seemed to be plentiful in the past couple of days.

"Hey, remember that fight in September, when those Freshmen got in that wicked fist fight in the basement? I felt so bad for the kid that got beat up. He didn't even do anything."

"Yeah, Eric wasn't around or he would have had a fucking blast that night." Tyler watched his feet as he walked. The field was rough and uneven and it was killing his legs after walking for over an hour. They'd passed a few tree lines by now and they couldn't see the highway anymore, but he knew they hadn't gone far. They were moving slow.

"I have to loosen up. I'm always scared to start fights cause everyone likes to go law-suit crazy." Mason ignored the growing pain in his legs that had begun shooting from his calves to his thighs. He was glad he was wearing combat boots rather than sneakers. He always felt childish when he wore sneakers. He felt the Glock in the Cop's Holster as he walked. Deep in his heart, he hated the things. They were what they were. They were good if you didn't know how to take care of a gun, but you needed three hands to take them apart and the sights seemed to confuse his eyes which had been trained in on a Kimber Ultra Carry 2. He Didn't have a problem shooting it though, and he was thankful for that.

"Yeah, Eric worried about that some too; always scared his guns would get taken away. He'd have fought to the death over those."

"Yeah- hey I got a question."

"What?"

"Well," Mason shrugged, "Whatever happened with you and that Becky girl?"

"Ah, I don't know." Tyler rubbed his neck thoughtfully and shook his head. "I just wasn't feeling it growing, you know? I couldn't see it going anywhere and I didn't want it to hurt her. I figured it was better to cut it off soon rather than six months into it. It would be easier on her. I'm so emotionally fucked up from so much of that bullshit though. It was probably all in my head."

"God I don't even remember the name of the last girl I dated." Mason shook his head sadly. "It was… when I was nineteen. What's that, five years ago?"

"Oofda." Tyler chuckled. "Yeah, you're pushing it."

"No shit." Mason spat. He never knew what to say to a girl. He wasn't scared of any man, or any risk, but women scared the hell out of him. "I get the fucking jitters just from looking at a girl. What am I going to talk to them about? Guns? Texas? Fuck if I know."

"Yeah, me either- House."

"Huh?" Mason raised an eye brow. He didn't get it.

"House." Tyler pointed off into the distance. A little less than a mile ahead of them, a yellow farmhouse was peaking out from a cluster of trees. It was a like a little piece of Heaven, sticking out of hell.

"Well, there's our goal then." Mason stepped up next to Tyler and crossed his arms. "Ninety-eight percent of farmhouses have a shotgun."

"If there's a shotgun, I get it." Tyler said; seriously. "I can't pull off this handgun bullshit anymore."

"Roger that, just leave the handguns to me." Mason pulled the half-empty magazine out of the Glock and inserted a fresh one. "Seventeen in the mag plus one in the steel. Fifty bucks says they shoot at us the second they see us."

"Well let's not be seen then. Sound ok to you?" Tyler stressfully rubbed his right eye with his palm.

"Yeah." Mason grinned at Tyler and turned back to the house. "Just stay right behind me."

The two young men didn't increase their speed by much. While Mason's mind and focus stayed on the house, Tyler's thoughts were bouncing back and forth like a ping-pong ball. His heart rate had increased ten-fold. He wasn't ready for a gun-fight and that's all he could think about. With each step the house seemed hundreds of yards closer. He Didn't want to get there. The possible outcomes were too many. He didn't want to comprehend them all.

Twenty minutes later, the house was yards ahead of them. Most of the clouds had disappeared and a misleading beauty had overwhelmed the remote farm-yard like an early Easter morning. But the cover was thin; The reality undeniable.

"Two cars. I don't see anyone else" Mason whispered as the wind blew his hair wildly. Had he woken up here, secluded from the outside world, he never would have guessed that apocalypse was unfolding around him. The house seemed quiet at the moment, but there was something not right about the whole scene. He needed to be patient and he was forcing Tyler to do the same. They hadn't seen any people, or heard any action yet and Tyler was hoping in his heart that they wouldn't. It was more than enough to make any ordinary man step over the edge into self-destruction.

"Oh shit, check this." Mason leaned forward as a Police Car pulled into the long, 200-yard driveway that lay out seventy yards ahead of them. It didn't have its lights on, nor did it look to be in a hurry. All seemed normal, but a feeling of discomfort began eagerly crawling its way up from under Mason's skin. As seemed to be the norm, something didn't seem right.

As Mason stared toward the vehicle, Tyler's eyes went to the front of the house. His heart-beat began to increase when he saw a young, maybe fifteen year old boy, get shoved out the front door. Two other boys followed. One had a rifle.

"Hey," Tyler said calmly; resisting his urge to begin shaking from the adrenaline that had begun to flood through him, "Look at that." Mason turned his gaze and rubbed his ear nervously. He grunted thoughtfully then shook his head in frustration. As the young boy was pushed into a plastic-chair sitting on the deck.

"Three cars, one gun so far. Could be more in the house." As he finished his sentence, the cop car stopped and a few more young men jumped out. They looked fresh out of high-school; dressed as thugs. As Mason and Tyler watched in confusion, the boy with the gun smacked the younger looking boy in the back of the head with the butt of the rifle and his chair fell backwards. As more blows were rained on him, the boy desperately shielded himself, but he was no match for 5 young-men that were noticeably bigger than him. It was sick. It didn't take long or him to go unconscious; completely open to the violent attack.

"That's just fucking beautiful." Mason said sarcastically; disgust obviously present in his voice. "He's not even conscious… my trigger finger's getting a bit fucking itchy." He spat into the grass beside him and scowled. "I want that fucking rifle." His eyes focused on the gun obsessively. He had the drive to do just about anything for a long gun. He knew the damage he could do with one; with or without a scope. Anything 22 caliber or bigger would do. Then again, even a 17 HMR had to ability to do what he wanted it to in this situation. Head shots were all that was desirable anyway.

"I don't like that look in your eye." Tyler said seriously. "I don't want to get involved with this dude." He yawned and closed his eyes. "I'm crashing. I feel like Kurt Cobain before he blew his brains out."

"What?" Mason looked, surprised, at Tyler and frowned. "Don't talk like that man. If you comm-"

Several rapid gunshots rang out and Mason and Tyler's eyes shot back to the front of the house. Mason's jaw dropped open and Tyler's face twisted in shock as two of the young men continued to shoot the younger looking boy as the entire group grinned. Mason closed his eyes and looked away. Tyler couldn't. He stared in shocked wonder and confusion. How had it come to this?

"That's it, we're leaving." Tyler started to turn, but Mason grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down.

"I'm not going to let this stand." Mason said coldly. He glared at the young men, now going into the house, and his eyes went to Tyler's. "You know how many kids I've watched die now? Just as many as you. Eric, Braden, the kid in the car, this nameless kid. And what? What? We're just going to walk away, right now when the bad guys are right here in front of us? I can't… let this stand."

"Right." Tyler nodded. It was true. Regardless of what was before, it was a new world. He had to adapt and become stronger than the situation. He had no choice. If he deviated from that mind-set, he'd surely die. He didn't want to die. He wanted to survive. Someone had to.

"Go to sleep." Mason said blankly.

"What?" Tyler cocked his head. Sleep wasn't exactly in the set-list, nor was it something that could currently be easily achieved. His mind was in so many places, he knew that even keeping his eyes closed would be a problem. He felt like he did when he drank; out of control, and losing ground. It was never something he felt good about the next day.

"Just chill out." Mason insisted. "We move at dusk."

"Ok." Tyler sighed. It was quickly turning into the longest day in his life. He wanted it to end the right way.

As the minutes and hours passed by, Mason's mind was rolling like an endless title wave. Every head shot, every gunshot, every violent image he'd seen in the past few days was playing over and over again in his brain. He couldn't stop it. The blood seemed to be pooling to no end, caking him on the inside like black tar. He could feel it breaking him down, destroying his self-image, and eating away at the person he'd always thought he was.

For as long as he could remember, Mason had always stood for the good and the right. He'd never wandered off that path. It had seemed so clear and so perfect to him that he could never process how a person could be any different, or how a person could become so terrible as to test the norms and ethics of society and of humanity. But through this, something had changed. He was becoming tainted more quickly than he thought possible. He was mutating into something stronger and braver, but less pure at the same time. He Didn't consider it evil. It was more of a harsh truth taking over him. He didn't know if he wanted it, but he DID know he had to have it and it would never stop.

How had he been so naive? Mason wrinkled his nose and twirled a piece of tall grass in his fingers as he contemplated. He'd always thought he could make the right choice, in a split second, with no guilt and no second thought. But everything had proven to be more complicated than a single choice or a single outcome. Every choice had multiple outcomes with multiple effects. The math was too much for his mind to take in. He rubbed the sweat away from his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. Soon he'd have to make another chain of choices. Choices that he knew would haunt him as long as he lived.

"Fuckin' partying." Mason said flatly as he stared at the house. The windows had been covered but music was faintly escaping; revealing what was really going on inside.

"Do you have a plan then?"

"Yeah." Mason nodded slowly toward the Police Cruise. "Go to the Cop Car, pop the trunk. There's something good in there. Then to the front; dynamic entry. I'll go in first, trump any instant resistance. You come up the rear, gimme a little cover. Got it?"

"Sounds little basic." Tyler laughed pessimistically. "Is that it?"

"Everything starts out basic." Mason shrugged and began to get up. "Let's move." His eyes locked onto the house. His legs were shaking, but he ignored it. He knew that it would eventually take over his whole body. He could only hope that actually doing something would let him control it. He'd never done this before.

"Hold up, hold up." Tyler protested and Mason frowned and went back into a kneel. "I can't do this." He shook his head; concerned and unsure. "I can't shoot anyone." He looked at the house, then at the ground. He knew he could get right up to the point of shooting someone. But actually pulling the trigger and stepping passed that line was the part he wasn't sure he could accomplish. What if he really had to, but he didn't. One, or both of them could die because of his hesitation. Not only would that add to the list of things that sucked on this trip, he simply wouldn't be able to live with himself if he caused his friend's death by flinching. He didn't want to think of it, and he surely didn't want to live through it. The tall grass was seeming warmer and more welcoming by the moment. Mason just frowned and nodded.

"I know, I know, I know." Mason said quickly, with an equally hasty nod. "I don't know if I can do it like this either, but there's a lot at stake here. Both leaving and staying have their cons." He huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest; seemingly unafraid of anyone seeing him from the house.

"What are the cons of leaving?" Tyler cocked an eye brow sarcastically; unaware of any negative side-effect slipping away could have on them.

"Hear me out." Mason cleared his throat and began nervously grinding the toe of his boot into the ground. "We go and we're stuck with the Glock and the revolver. In there," He motioned toward the house, "They've got guns that we can reach out with. Then again, we go and we don't have to shoot anyone.. This time. We go, and we might be leaving an innocent person to die."

"Whose innocent?" Tyler asked; dully. "They were all laughing. None of them are exactly high-class people. When you shoot a fifteen-year-old, your view on the world is kind of obvious."

"We haven't been inside." Mason raised his eye brows at his own point. "There could be hostages, or prisoners in the house. You dig? We could be leaving someone to die. Do you think those kids own this house? I don't know about you, but that seems a little… ridiculous to me."

"Yeah." Tyler admitted; unhappily. "I just don't want to get into anything we can't handle."

"They've got a shotgun." Mason said in a tantalizing tone of voice. He tried to hide a smirk.

"When the hell did you see that?" Tyler finally rose to a crouch; interested by the promise of his favorite weapon. The house was seeming a little more inviting. "What kind was it?"

"Mossberg. it's a police model. When you were lying there, dreaming about Angie, one of those little shits was showing it to the other dudes by the Patrol car. Its still in there…"

"No shit?" Tyler rubbed his chin. He appeared shocked. They didn't even have to go in the house. They just had to get to the car and that was more exciting than the thought of any Christmas gift he'd been promised before. A shotgun would be God's gift; easily used and easily loved.

"We just have to see if its open." Mason shrugged and tipped his head thoughtfully. "I'm going to leave it up to you." He knew Tyler would say yes. The only thing left in the world that could possibly make him feel more comfortable and secure was the 12-gauge shotgun loaded with 00-buck. That treasure lie right before them.

"Yeah, ok." Tyler nodded. "I need a little excitement in my life." He dusted off his pant legs and stood up.

"Excitement?" Mason spat, "I could use a little boredom in my life right now. That would be a fucking vacation." He looked at his hands. "I'm fucking shaking like I have Parkinson's."

"Me too." Tyler clenched his hands into fists. "This is fucked."

"Yeah," Mason smirked, "Let's go."

The yard seemed a lot bigger once they were in the opened. Mason's eyes stayed locked on the house and they moved low, but fast across the well-kept lawn. He kept imagining a face peaking through the window. Step by step, he expected it any moment. He felt a sigh escape as he felt the gravel of the drive-way under his feet. They both ducked between the Patrol car and the second pickup without a moment's hesitation.

"Not so bad, huh?" Mason peaked around the pickup and looked at the front door as Tyler trembled suddenly, then stopped. They were both getting a run for their money in the "thrill" department.

"Check out the Car." Mason said coolly; bringing up the Glock. "I'll cover the front." Tyler just nodded and crept away. As Mason scanned he front of the house, he heard the front door of the car creak open. He noticed a slight bit of light from the cab in his peripheral vision for a moment, then it was gone with the click of the door shutting again. As he continued to watch nervously; he heard the trunk of the car click shut, then Tyler's voice a moment later.

"How about a buck-shot sandwich? Anyone?" Tyler let out a quiet laugh that closely resembled Heath Ledger's in "The Dark Knight" then he cycled a round into the chamber. As Mason shivered from the cool breeze blowing through the yard, Tyler took a deep breath and nodded. "Ok, I'm ready."

Just then, the front door opened and music flowed out from the confines of the house. Both Tyler and Mason crouched even lower; slowly creeping around the opposite side of the Truck.

"I'm getting the fucking shotgun!" The door slammed and night was quiet again. "Fagots." As The two hidden young men listened, footsteps were wandering closer and closer to their position. Mason could feel the hair on his neck begin to raise. As he fought to control his shaky breathing, a figure appeared; his back to them. He stopped at the Car and dug a pack of cigarette's out of his pocket. He pulled one out of the pack and stuck it in his mouth. As he fidgeted with his lighter, Mason moved.

"Move and you're fucking dead." Mason said sternly as he jabbed the Glock into the Kid's back. He grabbed the back of his neck with his free hand and turned him back to the house. The kid seemed even more surprised when Tyler stuck the Mossberg Shotgun in his face. "You want to keep a bead on him when I pat him down Thompson?"

"My pleasure." Tyler clenched his teeth and stared into the kid's eyes. It was weird; He didn't see a lot of fear, but there was plenty of hatred. It was pouring out of the kid like fountain-pop; encouraging Tyler's defensive nature to go to full-power. He didn't like this kid, not one bit.

"What have we got here?" Mason pulled a pistol from the kid's waist-band and looked at it curiously as Tyler aimed down the Mossberg's barrel. It was a large-frame Smith and Wesson Automatic in 45 caliber. Mason was familiar with the model and he felt a flood of joy go through him as he checked the chamber. It was loaded. "A 4506 huh? You got good taste for a dumb-fuck." Mason searched a little more and pulled two extra magazines from the kid's pocket. Mason nodded, pleased, and stuck the Glock in it's holster. He pulled back the 4506's hammer and nodded at Tyler. "Ok, let's go talk to your party as a whole."

Mason put all his focus on keeping his hostage in-line as they moved toward the house. With each step he figured the kid would make a run for it, but as they stepped up onto the deck he realized that the kid was actually going to do what he was told. Anything else would have been a death sentence. The 45 barrel was stuck into the kid's back and Mason was confident he could pull the trigger if he moved wrong. They stepped up to the door and Mason glanced at Tyler.

"No one dies unless they go Cowboy on us. Ok? Just keep a bead on anything that's not directly in front of me."

"Right." Tyler said energetically. He switched the safety "off" on the Mossberg and clenched his teeth. Something about the shotgun made the whole thing feel right, even though he knew it wasn't all right. Either way, they were in it balls deep now and he was ready for it to some degree. The biggest test would be through the door and he hadn't studied the material very well.

"Jesse… you can suck my dick if you don't like it. You got it?" Reece Hendrickson said coolly as he looked at one of his crew, Tommy Plant, and smirked sarcastically. "Go ahead, do it." He took a drink from the bottle of Captain Morgan sitting on the table in front of him and slammed it back down on the table. He wiped his nose and stuck a marijuana-stuffed cigar in his mouth. He lit it and leaned his head back as he pulled in a deep drag of smoke. The whole house had begun to smell like liquor and drugs and they'd only been there since dinner-time. He didn't give a shit; no one did.

A world at war was Reece's kind of world. No laws, no cares, no guide-lines. He could simply walk up to someone and pop them in the head with his Colt 1911 and that would be that. Whatever someone had, he could take. All he had to do was want it. He looked at his friends through the gray smoke that was hovering through the entire dining room. Two of them he loved, the other was a bit of a lap-dog. He stared at Jesse and grunted in humor. The kid would do anything he said; even if it WAS suck his dick. He wasn't a fag though, so it didn't matter. He had the right crew to get things done. They had nothing to stay home for, no one to go and find and rescue in the city. They were on their own, just the way they wanted it.

Reece had no idea how perfect a world in chaos could be. While the things he wanted were falling into his lap, everything he hated had been seemingly destroyed. His parents were gone, his parole officer was gone, and most of all… Kenny was gone. The boy who ratted him out. It was like God had put him in just the right spot at just the right time so Reece and his friends would spot him on their way out of town. He'd had no chance of escape. All they'd had to do was throw him into the truck and off they went. No one would wonder where he went; not with all of this going on. He hadn't originally wanted, or planned to kill him. He just wanted to make him miserable, but the show had gotten to good. With everyone watching; Reece hadn't been able to help himself. He'd never felt he had to prove himself to his friends, but it was a new world and it had been the perfect opening scene in the new movie that was now his life. It had felt so good too. Now no one would ever doubt him. He was the leader and it would stay that way.

"You think I should check on Taylor?" Jesse looked toward the door. "He's been out there for-"

"Fuck him." Reece waved a hand impartially at the door. "If he can't find his way back from the fucking car then he should get lost." He pulled his 1911 out and set it on the table. "He went outside alone, so whose to say one of those things isn't out there? If he's fucking stupid, we should just let him go." Reece shrugged and started laughing. "He's fucking fine. He would have screamed or something." The rest of the guys began to laugh to, but the humor was short lived. As Reece reached for his gun again, the front door swung open and 2 large men stormed in; using Taylor as a human-shield.

"Get the fuck down!" Mason aimed the 4506 at Reece's head. He instantly recognized Reece as the main shooter and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the gun Reece's hand was on. The show had started.

As Tyler stepped passed Mason and aimed the shotgun at the three boys standing on the left side of the room, Mason's gun barked. Tyler winced, but didn't look away from his targets. He knew it was bad, but the adrenaline was flowing so constant that he couldn't comprehend it as a single thought. He was yelling, loud, and he didn't even know what he was saying. He was so cranked that he could hardly feel the weight of the gun. He wouldn't stop until Mason told him to.

"Fuck… FUCK!" Mason pushed Taylor into a chair and looked away from Reece's shattered head. Blood was all over the wall and the young-man's body was slouched sideways; the contents of his cranium dripping onto the floor. Mason leaned against the wall and clenched his eyes shut as the other boys from Reece's crew stared, with their jaws open, at Mason's work. "Holy shit." Mason took a deep breath and bent over. He puffed air in and out quickly as he tried to overcome the shock that was freezing up his system. He let thoughts of the kid outside, and Braden flow through his mind. After a few seconds, the shock went away and he stood up straight. He wasn't happy.

"You fucking cock bags!" Jesse screamed in thoughtless rage, "Do you know who your fucking with?!" Tyler turned to Jesse with the shotgun and aimed it at his chest. "You're fucking dead! You're both fucking dead!" He took an offensive step forward and Tyler squeezed the Mossberg's trigger. The gun-blast roared through the house as Jesse's chest was decimated by Steel BB's; punching and shredding their way through his ribcage and into his chest-cavity. He fell to the floor quickly, but the scene didn't stop. As Tyler pulled back the slide, Taylor dove at him from his chair. He knocked Tyler to the side and the other two boys jumped from their seats.

Mason, in his own world now, raised his pistol. In less than a second he took two shots. The first entered the closest kid's chest; knocking him to the floor with a sickening gasp. The second hit the farthest kid slightly to the left; puncturing his ribs and penetrating deep until it hit his spine. He fell to the floor and began to scream in agony.

Tyler threw Taylor to the side and climbed to his feet. He stepped over him with the Mossberg and stuck it in his face. Eric entered his mind. Everything seemed like a haze; like an intense dream. He saw Eric; speaking calmly and in depth as he always did. Then he imagined these boys coming in and stabbing him to death then stealing his guns and running away. No; he knew it wasn't these kids. It couldn't have been them. But they were the same. They had no remorse for any action they had. They did what they wanted when they wanted; as long as it was to their own advantage. Unconsciously, Tyler's finger went to the trigger. "AAAAHHHHHHH!" He screamed in rage. He blew Taylor's head into the floor. It didn't even look like a bullet-hole. It looked like someone had stomped his head in with their heal, then ripped all of the insides out and smeared them all over the place. It was the most disgusting thing Tyler had seen… but he couldn't look away.

Mason stepped passed Tyler and stood over the screaming boy. He aimed the gun and emptied the rest of the magazine into the kid. His screams stopped and everything was silent but the stereo. Mason's eyes slowly came up and he took a deep breath. Real life was storming into his head now. The truth, however moral or immoral it was, was now making it's presence known. Had he the right to kill these people? Was it murder? He looked away from the bodies and stared at the fridge. There were photos there of a family. Little kids, Older kids, middle aged people, and elderly people. Mason frowned. Someone from one of the pictures had probably been killed by these boys as well. It wasn't horrible; it was pure and complete terror. There was no going back… there was no way back. Whether they wanted to or not, Tyler and him would have to stand for something. They were standing for right; as disgusting as right may have become. His gaze went to Tyler. He was sitting in the Chair Taylor had been put in.

"This was fucked up." Tears ran from Tyler's eyes. "God didn't want this."

Mason looked over the result of his grand-plan and set the 4506 on the counter before him. He Didn't have the words to comfort anyone right now. He had to cool down. They both had to cool down.

_Hey guys, sorry it took SOOOOO long to get that done. I re-wrote it about ten times, plus I've been busy at work. I sell guns now lol. I hope you like this one. I figured I'd make them step passed their ethical lines so we can get into darker business without any hiccups. There may be some problems with the story being linear right now, but I'll fix that later once I'm done with the rough draft. Get me some reviews and throw some ideas out there. I've got some idea of where I'm going with this, but it could be clearer. I'll get the next one up in the next few days hopefully. Enjoy! _


	6. Bad Company

_CHAPTER 6_

_BAD COMPANY_

"_It's faster than snakes or the blink of an eye and it's a time for all slow men to die."_

_Johnny Cash- The Last Gunfighter Ballad_

Mason silently laid Reece's body on the floor next to the others. Tyler was staring into nothing; reliving every violent moment over and over in his head and trying to come up with an answer to why he'd done it so quickly, with so little hesitation. No matter how hard he searched for the words to sooth himself, he couldn't produce them. He could feel a surreal numbness overwhelming his senses.

Mason leaned back against the fridge next to the front door and let his head drop back against it. His eyes tiredly tracked from one side of the room to the other; trying to take in something other than the sickness in his gut. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was into this deeper than he wanted to be; both physically and mentally. He'd just killed three people. God wasn't going to make that go away. In his previous life; he would have been fucked. No jury would have seen this as self defense. They'd made the conscious decision to come into this house, unannounced, and do something. He could hardly remember what the point was. He smirked in irony when he remembered the guns. Did he really want them anymore? How could something he loved so much seem so cold now?

"I'm going to puke." Mason said bluntly. He turned and went through the front door; puking on the deck as he walked before finally making it to the grass. He quickly gagged out the limited contents of his stomach before turning to the plastic table that sat on the deck. He grabbed one of the matching chairs and sat down in it; appreciating the spring breeze as it blew his hair and ran down his neck into his shirt.

Mason rubbed his eyes with his pointer finger and his thumb and carelessly let his hand drop down to the table-top. He stared at it dully. His fingernails were completely caked with dried blood. How long had it been there? He couldn't be sure. He hadn't been paying much attention to his hygiene in the past few days. It could have been since day one when they were trying in vein to save Eric from slipping into eternal sleep. Or was it Braden's? He laughed quietly to himself; not out of humor, but out of desperation. Everything was mangled together. He had no desire to sort through it all; it was too complicated. All he wanted was a break. Not just for his body, but for his mind. Every emotion he knew existed was displaying its self at full-power; throbbing in his head like it was trying to get out. He didn't know if he could take much more before he broke down. He sighed and his eyes drifted to the grass to the side of the deck.

The dead boy lay there; motionless. He was like a piece of abstract and sick art; sprawled on his back; staring at the sky. Mason walked up to him and kneeled beside him. He put his hand on the boy's forehead and looked solemnly over him. Was there such thing as justice? Mason took a deep breath and held it. Yes, there was. The blunt reality was that justice was in his hands and he had the power to deliver it at his own discretion. But that power had the ability to mutate and manipulate him. It could drive him to crave power. He knew that. It was the same as the world before; there was just no system. It was moral, or it was immoral. There were no other choices.

Mason felt his heart-rate increase as his thoughts processed. Had he done wrong? In a sense, but he had brought down punishment after seeing the act played out before his own eyes. He didn't need a jury to tell him what happened and he didn't need internal affairs, or some other panel telling him what he did was ok. If someone had shot him, Mason would want someone to kill the shooter, no questions asked. He looked at the boy's face and nodded. It was this boy and his story that made everything come to together. It was this boy who would make Mason be sure to not forget what he was fighting for. In a sense, Mason was becoming justice with no limits.

Tyler stared at the bottle of Captain Morgan on the table-top and frowned. His eyes scanned the family pictures on the walls and he felt tears forming in his eyes. He missed his family so badly that there was no measure. His heart was so flustered that he could hardly keep himself still. On the road it had been different. He'd knew he was on his way when he was driving, when everything was in his control. The accident somehow proved to him that God was setting up road-blocks and barricades just for him. It had seemed like that so many times in his life that he'd nearly lost count. With women, with his health, and with the big decisions that he didn't know how to make. He'd never wanted to grow up. He didn't want responsibilities, or a career. He just wanted things to stay the way they were. That plan was completely out the window now. Nearly every single physical thing in life had changed in an instant. Was it God out to get him? His more sensitive and less contradicting side said no. It wasn't God out to get him, it was God teaching him. The lessons seemed quite harsh, but he knew people who'd had it worse. He knew that countless people were having it worse right now too, but it was a lot easier to feel sorry for himself. His eyes moved to the blood-spot on the wall.

Maybe there was no God. That possibility had seemed so small in Tyler's mind forever. How could things have just happened? The chance was so miniscule that it couldn't be mathematically duplicated. If there was a God, he wondered how this God was judging him right now. He had blood on his hands and in his soul. Could he be forgiven? He reached for the bottle of Morgan and unscrewed the top. Maybe he'd just drink his cares away.

"Don't we usually start at nine?" Mason said; much more alert and with it than when he'd left minutes earlier. He felt a lot of weight had been lifted off his shoulders and it showed.

"Ye-ah." Tyler grunted and screwed the cap back on the bottle in his hands. His tired, dreary eyes went to Mason's bright ones. "What's on your mind son?"

"What are you thinking right now?" Mason asked energetically as he pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. He slid Reece's 1911 in front of him and removed the magazine and the chambered round and Tyler groaned.

"I don't even know dude." Tyler rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Everything's a big, dense fuck. I'm fucking numb." He looked over at the stereo; annoyed. "Fallout Boy" was playing. "What the fuck… is this shit?" He wasn't a fan of Emo music, or much of anything other than Death Metal. The up-beat irritated him.

"Listen to me…" Mason ignored the music; trying to deliver the message he felt had just been delivered to him by God's very will. "We ran across this for a reason. EVERYTHING is for a reason. You know this." Mason looked into Tyler's eyes desperately. "We… did nothing wrong here. That boy outside did nothing wrong. We delivered justice. That's what we did and that's what we're going to keep doing."

"Yeah Mason, but is that in God's plan?" Tyler shook his head; doubtful. "All of this violence is turning in to a huge shit-storm. How do we know when we're right and the other people are wrong?" Tyler wrinkled his nose and shrugged. He didn't have any answers. Maybe Mason did.

"We don't just kill people." Mason said firmly; smacking his fist on the table. "We kill when nothing else can be done. We kill when someone else kills. Never the first to make a foul move. If we go by that rule, we can't go wrong. AND, if we play by that rule we can make it to Warroad without getting shot up just because we don't know what's right and what's wrong. We have the power to do what's right here. Letting people murder for fun isn't right. We stopped it; that was right. Let's do what we do dude. Let's shoot, move, and survive. We deserve to see our families again. You do more than anyone I know. Let's do it."

"You know…" Tyler's parent's flowed through his mind like brightly colored flowers. Everything was like a 3-d cartoon. He cocked his head. "I don't know what to say, except Fuck yeah." He spun open the bottle of Morgan and took a swig. "That was for Eric." He passed the bottle to Mason.

"And here's to the kid outside." Mason took a drink. "Now let's sort out our shit."

As Tyler sat and watched, Mason set all the guns and Ammo neatly on the table. As he searched through the pockets of the dead, he froze as he stared at Jesse's face and backed up to the table.

"Dude," Mason took a slow step back, "We forgot to shoot them in the head." As Mason's eyes stayed locked on the bodies, his hands searched for a gun on the table-top. He found the 4506 and aimed. "How fucking long have they been down?"

"Well," Tyler said dully without really batting an eye, "About a half hour." He took another drink and burped.

"Huh…" Mason grunted and slowly lowered the gun. "How long did it take Eric to come back?"

"Like a minute." Tyler leaned to the side and looked around Mason. The bodies were perfectly still.

"Well maybe…" Mason trailed off. "Hold on." He went through the front door and onto the deck, then into the grass. He kneeled down by the boy's body again and leaned in close. There were no bullet holes to his head. He had remained dead after being shot. Mason turned around and went back inside. Tyler looked up as he closed the door.

"The kid outside stayed dead all day. I didn't even think to look before." Mason put his hand on his chin and rubbed his beard. He cocked an excited eye at Tyler and smiled. "You think its over?"

Tyler, trying to contain any optimism, slowly slid the Morgan away and rubbed his hands on his jeans. He turned around and looked into the dark, open living room. The TV was sitting in the corner; turned off

"Check the TV. We haven't done that in a while."

Mason ran passed Tyler into the living room and hit the "power" button on the TV. It hissed as it came to life and after a few seconds the picture came into view and voices began to echo through the room.

"_Mr. Canyon, we've been over this again and again. These things are not our friends, or our family. They have no recollection of their past lives. Understand? Government reports have indicated no effect even through application of hypnosis. They are not people, they are machines with the simple purpose of devouring live human-flesh._

_The most confusing part of this whole thing is how they tell the difference between us and each other. They seem to have no trouble identifying us as their prey instantly upon sight. While few questions have been answered, the list of unanswered seems to be growing by the second."_

Mason sat down on the couch quietly as the man on TV continued to speak. Tyler was glued too. He seemed to have completely forgotten the bottle of Booze on the table.

"_Little has changed since day one, other than rate at which this epidemic is growing. Before, bodies would return to life no matter what the cause of their death. Now, it seems that only those who succumb to the bite of these "things" return to life. In any case, the Epidemic continues to escalate in tidal waves. While that still answers no questions, it raises another. Is it dying down? It doesn't seem so. Evidence suggests this WAS some type of chemical weapon though. Maybe it was airborne at first, and now that its settled, it can only be transferred by the infected. I don't know."_

"Not over." Mason hit the "mute" button on the remote and turned to Tyler. "Chemical weapon. You buy that?"

"I don't know." Tyler shrugged passively. "It doesn't really change anything." As Mason watched him, Tyler got up from his seat and opened the fridge. "I kind of wish I could eat." He looked down at the bodies. "We should probably move these." He looked away from them and back at the Stereo again. "God this is fucking gay music." He walked up to it and pulled the plug. As the tunes went silent, a muffled thud came from directly above. Tyler's eyes shot up.

"Mother fuckers." Mason shot out of the Living-room and snatched the 1911 off the table. He slammed the mag in and racked the slide. He looked to the only other doorway in the kitchen and nodded toward it as Tyler snuck another drink from the Bottle of Morgan and picked up the Mossberg Shotgun.

"Slow and quiet." Mason whispered; his gun trained. He held it close to his body; focusing on the fiber-optic front site. He stepped up to the doorway. Right inside it there was a door that lead into a dimly-lit bedroom. He ignored it. The only other direction was to go left down the hall. He leaned in slowly and scanned. It was clear. He nodded at Tyler and stepped in.

They walked briskly down the hall; hardly glancing into the small bedroom that was on the right side as they passed. They got to the end and stopped. There was a door that obviously led into the garage straight ahead; then there was a right turn. Mason leaned again and looked around the corner. There was a bathroom on the left side and a stairway straight ahead. He glanced into the bathroom and pointed at the stairs. Tyler nodded and they went forward.

Mason clenched his teeth as he began ascending the staircase. The stairs were creaking very loudly under his feet. Everything seemed to be echoing ten-fold in the completely silent house. The place was obviously old; probably owned by the same family for decades. He could respect that. He still hated the creaks though. As he came to the top of the steps he entered a completely open room with one door on the far wall. There was a neatly-made bed by it with a couple duffle bags laying on top of it.

"Cover the door when I open it." Mason whispered. "Just step to the side so you can get a good angle." Mason motioned with his head. Tyler nodded and got about ten feet from the door. He aimed the shotgun and his face formed into a serious scowl. Mason smirked. He did the same thing when he was aiming a long-gun.

Mason went swiftly up to the door and put his hand on the knob. He hoped to God the person inside didn't have a gun. In fact, he actually hoped it was a corpse. They were easy to deal with. He shoved in the door and stepped away; expecting to hear a shot from Tyler. When he didn't, he looked over. Tyler was setting down his gun. His eyes were wide and worried.

"Dude, a girl." Tyler chirped. Mason, surprised and worried, threw the 1911 on the bed and followed Tyler into the room.

"Oh my God." Mason said softly as Tyler crouched beside the young, pretty girl in the tiny upstairs-bedroom. She was duct taped at the wrists and over her mouth. As Mason watched solemnly, Tyler gently removed the duct tape.

The sobs roared through the room the second the tape came off. Tyler ignored it as he tore her hands free and pulled her into his chest as she cried. He hugged her close.

"It's ok, you're ok, you're ok." Tyler soothed her as she cried. "Just let it out, just let it out, you're ok."

"Where are they?" She cried; wiping the tears from her eyes. Tyler figured she meant the boys who had tied her up.

"They're no more." Mason said hesitantly. "They won't get the chance to do this to anyone again."

"We fucked em' up real good." Tyler said in a self-righteous tone. "Just take a breath."

"Are they down-stairs?" She sniffled and took a deep breath. The tears seemed to partially subside as she looked toward the door. She could feel rage bursting through her. She wanted to see their bodies destroyed. She wanted to see them ravaged and blown to bits. She couldn't contain it. "I want to see them."

"You don't wanna see that." Tyler insisted. "Just… sit here and collect yourself for a minute." He looked at Mason. "You were right." Tyler said honestly. "About everything."

The girl's name was Aya Bronson. She was home from College too. Her story wasn't as free-spirited and plain as Mason and Tyler's though. She had come here for her Grandmother's Funeral; This was her Grandmother's house. She wasn't supposed to have arrived until Tuesday but she had shown up early on Sunday just to recollect on all the memories from the house and the property. Her family was supposed to show up on Tuesday as well, but everything had gone to hell on Monday. She had been alone until today when Reece and his gang had shown up. They'd beaten her and thrown her into this room on her own. She figured they were going to kill her and had accepted it until she'd heard the shooting. Now she had heroes; real ones that she'd met and would get to know. Not a lot of people got that prize.

Aya walked into the Kitchen, stepped over Reece's body, and stared down at it. As Tyler and Mason watched, she went into a frenzy. She began to kick and swear in rage until she began to cry again. When she was out of energy, she sat down on a stool that was sitting by the counter. Mason was the first to say anything.

"We're going to get this cleaned up." Mason said in a soothing, fatherly tone. "You just," he shrugged, "Relax."

Tyler and Mason began picking up the bodies, one by one, and dragging them to the grass outside. It wasn't as easy as it looked. Dead weight was hard to move and limp bodies weren't exactly proportioned for easy portability. Their feet would get caught in the doorway, or get tangled up in something as they were being dragged. It was a chore. It took them 15 minutes.

Mason slapped his hands together casually as he closed the door behind him. Tyler had sat down at the table; eyeing the guns as he took a drink. He looked up from the Mossberg and looked over at Aya. She was looking at a magazine lying open on the counter. She didn't seem too unstable, or stressed anymore. It was odd.

"Have you even been off the farm since the whole thing began? Have you seen the things?" Tyler got out of his chair and Mason shook his head with a smirk as he took his own seat at the table. It was common for Tyler to want to talk to the women. It seemed to be one of the only things ever on his mind; regardless of the circumstances. He'd hit on a girl at a funeral.

"I didn't have any reason to leave." Aya admitted with a cute shrug of her shoulder. "I figured I'd just wait until my family showed up. Hasn't happened yet, but I'm not worried." She looked back at her magazine and Tyler raised his eye brows at Mason.

"A little under-concerned don't you think?" Tyler wrinkled his nose. "Do you even know where your family is?"

"I don't know anything, so I don't have any reason to be upset." Aya raised one eye brow. "My brother is a Dade County Sheriff's Deputy, and my dad IS a Marine. Not WAS, but IS. If anyone's ok, they are." She turned so she was facing the boys at the table and leaned back against the counter. "As long as I don't know, I'll be ok. If I make a big deal about it, I'll break down. So I'm just going to pretend that things are going pretty good, ok?" She smirked and Mason crossed his arms with a smile on his face. He was impressed. Tyler was just plain stunned.

"How about your mom?" Mason asked curiously. Aya shook her head and shrugged a shoulder.

"Well I know for a fact that she's not ok. She died when I was nine."

"Sorry." Mason said apologetically. "I didn't know."

"Don't worry about it." Aya said passively. "People ask about her all the time. Everyone gets the same answer. Its like a zit that won't go away; its annoying, but it doesn't hurt me."

"Fuckin' aye." Tyler said; amazed. "Stated like a Politician. I'll drink to that." He raised the bottle of Morgan, then took a big drink while Aya grinned.

"Alright, now that all of that is out of the way." Mason adjusted himself in his seat and motioned with one hand to all the guns. "You know how to use a gun?" Aya just crossed her arms; not impressed.

"My dad's a Marine." She reminded Mason bluntly. "I'll take anything in nine-millimeter if you've got it." She looked over the assortment of weapons on the table; obviously eyeing the Glock.

"Well lets see here." Mason said in a winy voice as he leaned forward over the guns. "We have a Series 70 Colt Commander in forty-five auto," He picked the Colt up and eyed it admirably, "A Smith and Wesson 4506 in forty-five auto," he picked up the S&W and smiled dreamily, "A Heritage Rough Rider Single Action revolver in 22 long rifle," he wrinkled his nose in disgust without touching the gun, "And a Smith and Wesson J-Frame revolver in 38 Special, but we don't have much ammo for it." He habitually checked the cylinder on the revolver and slapped his knees in a clownish sort of way. "We've got a Remington 710 in 30-06 too, take your pick." He grinned on the inside as Aya looked at him with an exaggerated scowl. He'd skipped the Glock just to spite her; she'd caught on.

"I'll take the Glock." Aya chirped. "And you're a tool-bag just so you know." She turned, happy with herself, back to her magazine and flipped the page.

"Aren't we all?" Mason smiled as he picked up the Glock and walked it over to her. She Glanced up at him as he set it down.

"Have you ever experienced running water?" Aya asked; seemingly serious. "It's amazing."

"Huh?" Mason responded; confused by the odd question.

"That was a joke. I'm trying to be funny sweetie. Look at yourself in the mirror." She didn't look up from her reading material.

"Well," Mason looked at his hands and realized the rest of him probably looked worse, "Fuck you and the Golden horse you rode in on." He said proudly; his face emitting entertained humor, and he walked toward the hall. Tyler was laughing; trying to hold in the Morgan that he' been trying to swallow. That was his line. He looked over at Aya; waiting for a good response.

"Back at you honey."

Mason shook his head as he went down the hall. He liked girls with attitude and she was no exception. He went down to the end of the Hallway and stepped into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and turned to the mirror that was on his right. The childish humor running through Mason's system was swept away. He was covered in dried blood. It was on his face, in his hair, and all over his clothes. He let out a stressful sigh and leaned up against the door. There was a lot of peoples' blood on him. He'd blown more heads open than he'd ever imagined he'd get the chance to. Where was the pride? He shook his head and began stripping down. He threw his clothes into the washing machine, making sure there was nothing important in his pockets, and walked over to the shower. He turned on the water and closed his eyes as steam began to fill the room.

"So what's your story?" Aya sat down at the table and Tyler wrinkled his nose as he thought.

"Just going home." Tyler shrugged. "I mean- what else do you do? Sit down and wait? Nah," he shook his head, "I can't wait. We're going to go until we're stuck, or fucking bleeding out in the street. I don't think I have a choice. If I don't know… not knowing isn't good." He shook his head glumly.

"So do you guys know each other?" Aya motioned toward the sound of the shower. "Or did you run into each other along the way?"

"He's one of my best friends." Tyler smirked weakly. "I met him at college a couple years back. Good guy." Tyler rubbed his eyes. "I think I need to shower too." He looked at his hands and frowned.

"Yep." Aya agreed with a smart grin. "I was going to get to that. I guess there's no getting passed you." Her eyes twinkled and Tyler laughed softly.

"You're a handful." Tyler rolled his knuckles on the table and closed his eyes.

"I beg to differ." Aya's confidence resonated like an aura. "I think you two are going to be a handful to take care of. You sort of have that… immature personality trait that makes you seem like you're ten." As she was about to snicker in amusement, the humor drained from Tyler's face.

"Wow, really?" Tyler's voice was not amused, or impressed. "Really?" He shook his head and scowled. "We come in here, balls to the wall, and kill four guys, who are armed to the teeth by the way, and save your ass. YOUR ASS. Are you aware they shot a little kid in the front yard?" His eyes widened and Aya seemed to shrink; her confidence no longer present in the room. "We're immature huh?" He spat and shook his head; turning away from her.

"I was just kidding." Aya said softly.

"Well I'm not fucking kidding." Tyler snapped. He said nothing else; just staring at the wall.

"I'm going to go outside." Aya croaked as she tried to hold in tears. She went out the door and Tyler swore under his breath as the door slammed.

A few minutes later, Mason appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing his boxers and a shirt that he found in the little bedroom halfway down the hall. He sat down at the table and looked around the room curiously.

"Where'd Aya go?"

"I yelled at her." Tyler sighed. "Got a little hot headed there." He looked at the Captain Morgan Bottle and shook his head. "I really shouldn't drink this stuff."

"Fucking aye man." Mason groaned and closed his eyes in disgust. "Really, really?" In stressful situations it wasn't uncommon for Tyler to take things out of context, or get sick of people rather quickly. Sometimes he couldn't control what came out of his mouth. He sometimes regretted it and it looked like he did this time. Mason couldn't even count the amount of times that he'd heard Tyler's voice shouting over the music at a random party. The alcohol usually played a factor. While Tyler usually meant what he said in good humor, there had been plenty of times where he'd ended up throwing empty beer bottles at groups of people who didn't understand that it was time to go home.

"Well I'm going to go make sure she hasn't been turned into some sort of entrée." Mason sighed and went out the front door; shrugging at Tyler as he pushed it open with his back. He saw Aya right away as he closed the door. She was sitting at the picnic table holding her face in her hands; crying quietly. Mason bit his lip and shivered as the breeze hit his legs. He softly cleared his throat as she turned to him with dark eyes.

"Hey," Aya said dully; looking away from Mason to hide her face. "Don't look at me- my makeup is all fucked." She sniffled as Mason walked up and sat down. She didn't feel like talking. It wasn't the world around her, or the bodies lying in her grandmother's yard. It was the "not-knowing" that was getting to her. She'd been able to hide it away and convince herself that everything was rainbows and puppy-dogs, but it was beginning to surface. Going through a hostage situation hadn't helped either. It seemed no one could be ok in this- not even her dad and brother.

"Eh, you're a pretty girl either way." Mason leaned on his elbows as an awkward silence overtook them. "He doesn't mean anything," Mason said softly; trying to excuse Tyler's aggravated behavior, "He's just- he's not taking any of the stress real well. I'm pretty sure I'm not either."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Aya smirked and looked up at the sky. "You'd never know anything was wrong if we didn't have TV. It seems like any other night. It's just got that… weird intensity to it. You know? That feeling like you didn't get a paper handed in for a class, or you're at a party and a cop's outside. Yeah-"

"I know!" Mason agreed excitedly. "I have that same fucking feeling, like I forgot to pay my bills. Its not unbearable but its just fucking annoying." He snickered and trailed off. He looked at her and he frowned.

"It's pretty bad out there." Mason tapped his fingers on the table nervously. "I watched a good friend bleed out on his bedroom floor… then I shot a kid in the head. I-I didn't know what else to do." Tears began to stream from Mason's eyes. "He was- just laying there, he couldn't move, I- I don't know." He wiped his eyes. "Then this kid was with us and he got shot. He got fucking shot when we were driving." Mason clenched his eyes shut. "I thought killing somebody bad might make me feel better." He shook his head weakly as Aya stared at him silently. "But it just made it all more fucking complicated. I just want to sob it all out, but it doesn't seem to be enough."

"You saved me." Aya reminded him. "No one else would have."

"Yeah," Mason nodded; staring at the deck beneath his feet. "That counts for something, right? I hope I get to save someone else too. Maybe eventually I can make up for all the bad shit."

"I think one counts for enough." Aya's voice was soft and sincere.

"Yeah." Mason smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I think it might too."

"Oye," Tyler's energetic voice echoed through the night as he walked out onto the deck with the Morgan in his hand. "I'm, uh, sorry about what I said." Tyler shrugged and looked at the bottle. "Just- just ignore me." He waved a passive hand at her and sat down next to them.

"Don't worry about it." Aya shrugged toward Mason, "You're boyfriend excused you."

"Ish." Tyler shook his head; disgusted by the thought. "Ish." Homosexuality wasn't on Tyler's "to-do" list. He'd met plenty of them. In fact, he'd even been nice to some of them. But being one of them? That wasn't his idea of a party.

"It's not like you haven't considered it." Mason said sarcastically; his face twisting into a picture of twisted humor.

"Yeah-" Tyler shook his head; his voice pure in sarcasm. "Yeah right!"

"So, now you get to be involved in the planning." Mason smirked in Aya's direction; noting the optimistic raise of her eye brows as she looked at him. "You up for it?"

"It depends on what I get out of it." A cool smile formed on Aya's face as she leaned back in her chair; putting her hands behind her head as the wind blew her shoulder length brown hair to the side. "Can you promise me anything good?"

"We can't promise you shit!" Tyler snapped; his cynically dry-humor boiling over. "What do you think this is; a democracy?" His Midwestern accent mutated into a thick Norwegian one. "YAH! Listen here ya god-damn fool! There ain't no promises in this here game, or whatever you call it. Whatever we get… It's the cat's dick." He nodded; self justified, and slapped his hands on his knees then put his hands up it defense. "Ok, I'm done… I'm done."

"There you have it." Mason, humored, raised an eye brow with a cool smile. "You just have to go with the flow. It's that simple, but it's not easy."

"Right." Aya snickered, "So what's the game plan right now?"

"Pfft," Mason spat, "Right now it's sit right the fuck here and don't care. I want five fucking minutes where I don't have to care. Is that cool with you?"

"No shit!" Tyler croaked. His eyes went to the bottle of Morgan and he let out a hard sigh. He took a hard swig and moaned in pleasure as he leaned his head back.

"I think we're just going to sit tight for a while." Mason shrugged. "I need to sleep and he definitely needs to sleep. I think that's the best I can do right now. After that… We'll just have to see. We don't have a lot of options."

"Well my grandma has a lot of stuff as far as food here. So we'd be fine for a while. I don't think she'd mind."

"Your grandma sounds cool!" Tyler burped, "Just like Eric's grandma."

"Yeah," Mason agreed, "Just like Eric's grandma."

"Oh, what the fuck do you know?" Tyler waved a passive, ornery hand, "You never met her! She was a bad-ass."

"Well she was related to Eric. It must be in the genes."

"Gotta be." Tyler agreed. "She'd shoot you." He nodded. "She would."

"Who's Eric?" Aya tipped her head curiously. "Sounds like a guy I'd like to meet." She smiled a cute smile. "A Badass?"

"Yah." Tyler nodded in a glum sort of way. "He'd take you and rip your fucking throat out BOOM! Like that. Done." He shook his head. "Good guy."

"Yeah," Mason agreed, "Really sincere guy. There was just… no bullshit there. He was just a plain old sincere bad-ass motherfucker. A "bamf." You know what I'm saying?"

"I take it he died?" Aya asked softly. "How'd it happen?"

"He got stabbed to death!" Tyler gasped; as if shocked. "He got fucking stabbed to death in his bedroom." He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. "Right before we got there… like it was a sign or something. I know he'd just want us to be ok. He was like… just fucking cool."

"I'm sorry…" Aya trailed off. "I bet a lot of good people have died."

"I don't… think I want to talk about it." Mason shook his head weakly. "I think we should just deal with here and now. I really don't know what else to do. Thinking about everyone else will just make things more complicated."

"Sleep on it!" Tyler nodded. "Sleep sounds good to me."

"Ok buddy," Mason nodded with a smile, "You get to sleep first and we'll follow."

"A-ok." Tyler nodded; nearly tipping the table over as he used it to push himself up and he wandered to the door. He turned back as he opened it. "If you need me I'll be in the," He motioned to the housed, "In there."

"Ok buddy." Mason nodded; half amused, "G'night."

"Night." Tyler grumbled and the door shut behind him.

"So are you going to leave tomorrow?" Aya tipped her head slightly; her curiosity was screaming inside her head.

"I don't know." Mason shrugged and turned to her. "It's not tomorrow yet." He stood up from his chair and stretched. "I'm fucking cold, and tired. Got a room for me?"

"Sure." Aya nodded. "I'll show you the way."

_Can you believe how long it took me to do this? Thanks for waiting people. I've been writing a lot people but I've been in school too and I've been thinking a lot about where this should go. This is surely not the last chapter and I assure you it is not over, but it will take a while. I hope for as much support as possible as I make corrections, and make this more exciting. Stay with me people. Much more is to come. (Note: This is includes heavy weapons and as much clumped together death and destruction as possible)._


	7. Heroes

CHAPTER SEVEN

_"He today who sheds his blood with me will be my brother."_

When the sun rose, Mason and Tyler didn't pack up their things and go. In fact, it was quite the contrary. With so much news on the TV, and so much obvious heat from both the growing masses of the dead, and the out of control National guard, it was a mutual decision between both the young men that they should extend their stay in the comfort of Aya's grandmother's home. Of course, there was plenty to keep themselves busy with.

With the help of both Mason and Aya, Tyler began to put together an outline for a more secure household. It involved using the sheet metal and steel doors from the Shop-buildings on the property to cover all the windows and doors of main floor on both the inside and the outside, plus the insulation that Tyler decided would be handy in case the corpses started pounding. The job took 12 hours.

On the second day, Mason siphoned the fuel from the police car, The Second pickup, and the lawn mower that had been in the shop and stored them in the bed of the Chevy Avalanche parked in the driveway. The second pickup, a Ford F350, they pushed behind the house to rot. It was useless. When that was all done, Mason and Tyler chopped fire wood for four hours. They knew they'd need it if the power went out. It was a convenient addition that Aya's Grandmother had a fireplace in the living-room. All in all, things were looking good on the inside for the case that things got bad on the outside. Mason and Tyler were pleased. They finally felt they had a good place where they could hide away. That was until the third day, when the news stopped playing.

"Not a fucking thing." Tyler threw the TV's remote-control at the living room couch and huffed out a rough sigh. He'd been waiting for this day. He'd known it would come sooner or later. After all, the news reports had only gotten worse and worse. He'd half expected them to tell him that the sun could no longer shine and that the entire earth would soon become consumed with ice. Either way, he figured the end was probably close enough.

"What did you expect dude?" Mason huffed; looking up from the book he was reading at the kitchen table. "They've been talking about a shit-storm since we turned the TV on. Looks like its finally in our area. At least the power is still on." He looked back at his book as Tyler swore. Aya stepped in from the hallway with a worried look on her face.

"You should come upstairs Mason." Aya stared at Mason as he looked up tiredly from his book and raised his eye brows. A bead of sweat ran down Aya's forehead.

"What's up?"

"Outside." Aya motioned toward the front door with her thumb. "There's some, uh, people coming toward the house."

Mason took a tin of "Copenhagen Long Cut" out of his back pocket and put a big pinch of it in his mouth. He glanced at Tyler who was sitting on the couch staring at him, then nodded.

"Is the rifle upstairs?" Mason asked as he rose from his chair.

"Yeah," Aya nodded, "by the window." She stepped back as Mason passed her toward the hallway.

"You want to come Thompson?" Mason looked over at Tyler and Tyler shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good."

"Ok," Mason nodded at Aya, "Let's go."

Mason and Aya quickly went to the second floor. Mason didn't even glance at the gun as he went into the room where Aya had been tied up. The window inside looked over the entire farm yard, and revealed at least six figures moving slowly toward the house. Mason squinted as he stared and rubbed the stubble that was quickly turning to a beard on his chin.

"Yeah, them people are dead." Mason confirmed Aya's worries without looking at her. "We have eighteen bullets for that rifle. You want to grab it for me?" Aya nodded and went to the main upstairs room. She grabbed the rifle and brought it back. Mason nodded as she handed it to him.

"Alright, open that window." Mason grunted as he began putting bullets in the gun. Aya quickly opened the window and stepped away as Mason rested the gun on a pillow that was placed on a small table in front of the window. He pulled up a chair as Aya watched and he positioned himself as comfortably as possible with the rifle's stock against his shoulder. He looked at the corpses through the scope for a few moments, then adjusted the elevation and windage knobs, and looked through the scope again.

"So what was the High School you went to called?" Mason asked Aya calmly, and the rifle barked. Two hundred and thirty yards away, the head of Mason's target sprayed a mist of red chunks and the body teetered sideways to the ground. "Oh, I think I gave him a nose-bleed." Mason snickered and looked back up at Aya, who was standing staring in awe at what he'd just done. "Well you didn't answer my question." Mason worked the Winchester's bolt and aimed again.

"Oh, uh, Lincoln High."

"Lincoln huh? Well ain't that just cutely respectable." The gun barked again and the second target dropped down into a lifeless pile. "Weird," Mason worked the bolt, "He must have been dry." He smiled at Aya. "Did you see that? Nothing even came out of his head. That's the definition of a brainless fuck-tard." He looked down the scope. "So what's new around the-" The lights suddenly went out and Mason lifted his head up. "Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me." Mason sighed stressfully and looked at Aya. "I'll finish up here. Go on down." He looked around the now-dark room and shook his head. The power had finally cut-out.

"Fuck that." Aya crossed her arms. "I want to see this."

"Your call." Mason grinned, and looked back through the scope.

Tyler sat staring through the darkness in the living room. He could hardly be surprised by the loss of power. How long could you expect people to be going to the power-plant when everyone was eating each other? He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. For three days there had been no corpses. The only gunshots had been the two that Mason fired from the 30-06 to sight it in. All had been peaceful other than the work they'd had to do. He could hardly tell it was daylight outside. Not with all of the sheet-metal covering the windows. It was like a prison. They were cut off from the world by their own choice. In all honesty though, it was much easier to sleep in a prison. He preferred it over sleeping in a parked car, or even a moving car at that. It was hard for people to shoot you when you were sheltered by steel and wood.

"Eight targets engaged and destroyed." Mason's voice came from the darkness. Tyler heard some flint strike and Mason's lighter lit up the kitchen. He put the flame down on a candle's wick and a warm light overtook the entire room. "I didn't miss a single fucking shot." Aya walked passed him with a girly-cute smile on her face and sat down at the table.

"You should have been there Tyler." Aya said energetically. "It kind of lit up the day." She bit her lip and looked at the fridge as Tyler shook his head in discontent. "Oh yeah," Aya said less happily, "We're getting limited to canned vegetables and chicken broth as far as food goes."

"Oh Christ." Tyler moaned. "Chicken broth?" He shook his head; more stressed out than before.

"I could go hunting." Mason shrugged. "There's bound to be deer out there. It's not like they're barricading themselves inside houses too."

"Ish, I hate Venison." Aya shook her head. "I just can't eat it."

"Oh you'll eat it when you're starving." Tyler said with a convinced nod. "You'll eat anything."

"So I suppose there's nothing on the news then." Mason interrupted; feeling the grip of the Colt Commander in his waist-band. "I'm going to go out and turn on that Cop Car's radio. Maybe someone is out there talking to the world."

"Good call." Tyler got up from the couch, grabbing the shotgun from beside the doorway as he stepped into the Kitchen. "I'll come with." He turned the door handle and pushed it open; turning to Mason with a cynical grin on his face. "Maybe I can get something with-"

As the door swung open behind him, Tyler saw Mason's eyes widen and his hand start going for his waist-band. In desperation, Tyler swung around with the shotgun's barrel jutted outward. He instantly saw a corpse standing in the middle of the porch not eight feet away. He squeezed the trigger and the gun barked; spitting a wad of 00-Buck into the chest of the dead-man. The corpse went down instantly, but moaned and sat up as if in a daze. Tyler walked up to him with the shotgun aimed and blew a ragged hole in his face. His head slammed against the deck and his body began to twitch.

"Twitcher!" Tyler shouted and a cackle escaped his lungs. He looked to his left as he heard a few shuffling footsteps. Another corpse stepped around the corner of the house and moaned. "Jesus Christ." Tyler said dryly. The man was about 6 foot 4. His head was leaned back and his jaw was missing. His tongue was licking the air in a disgusting cartoon-like fashion. Tyler's face twisted in disgust and he turned away for a moment. He gagged, then turned back with the shotgun aimed.

"Hold up." Mason stepped onto the deck with Eric's revolver. "Save the ammo for the big guns." He aimed down the sights and blew a dime-sized hole into the man's face where his nose was supposed to be. The corpse dropped and Mason shook his head.

"Ten in a day and we're out in the boondocks." Mason shook his head. "Man this has to be bad."

"No shit." Tyler walked up to the tall corpse's body and looked at his face. "That's the most horrible shit ever. He looks like rotten meat stretched over barbed-wire." He snickered and looked seriously at Mason. "Now that's a good lesson for you Mason: Don't do Meth."

"Fuck," Mason shook his head as he let out a hard-laugh, "That's the greatest thing I've heard all week." He rolled his eyes and turned toward the Cop Car. "Well, let's go check this out."

"Right." Tyler ran to Mason's side and they walked up to the Cop Car. Mason opened the Driver's side door and turned the ignition half-way so the power came on and he picked up the CB. "Hey, what should our Codename be?" He giggled in a childish way as Tyler looked up at the air and thought.

"Oh, uh, Dragon Wagon! Let's be Dragon Wagon! Uh, Dragon Wagon here." Tyler said in the deepest voice he could muster. Mason burst out laughing, then put the radio up to his mouth.

"This is Dragon Wagon," Mason started laughing again and took a deep breath, "Anybody out there? Over." No sound came from the CB for a few moments, so Mason tried again. "This is Dragon Wagon, looking for other survivors. Is anyone out there? Over."

"Wait, wait give it to me." Tyler motioned for the CB and Mason handed it to him with a humored grin. Tyler put it to his face and took a deep breath. "Yeeee-up this is Dragon Wagon. Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I'm 24, and going to college to be a Mechanical Engineer. I like long walks on the beach, the occasional half-bottle of Seagram's Extra Dry Gin, and independent women. If you share any common interests with me, please feel obliged to give me a call back on this here little black box. Over and out."

"Nice." Mason nodded and shrugged. "Looks like we might be the only ones left after all. Wouldn't that be a bit of a debacle? The only living humans on the face of earth. Fuck." He leaned back in the Patrol Car's seat and yawned.

"Well remember," Tyler said seriously, "These things only have so much for a range. A lot of people probably don't have them lying around here and there either. They're not like condoms Mason. They're not just strewn out all over the place."

"Dragon Wagon," A voice suddenly erupted from the CB, "this is Tom Lund, are you guys serious? Over."

"Holy shit." Mason stuttered as Tyler's jaw dropped open. Mason picked up the CB and put it to his mouth as he looked desperately at Tyler for direction. "Uh, this is Dragon Wagon. Just, uh, disregard all the bullshit you just heard. Where you at dude? Are you ok?" Tyler laughed to himself as he stepped away and scanned the horizon. He wasn't worried about some other guy. It wasn't his problem.

"Yeah, I'm ok at the moment, but things aren't getting any better. I am inside Pembleton at the Trail County Hospital. I am with approximately thirty other people and we have managed to barricade ourselves inside the main building. We are out of food and water. Is there anything you can do for us? Out."

"Uh, let me talk to the other, uh, dragon… in this wagon. Over." Mason's eyes went to Tyler? "What the fuck should we do?"

"Fuck that." Tyler shook his head. "Seventy-five thousand dead cannibals surrounding thirty people in a fucking Hospital. What do you want to do? Walk them out? We have like a hundred bullets. We can't handle this Mason. This is out of our control." He shrugged; his point delivered well, and turned away as the voice came over the radio again.

"Dragon Wagon, we have twelve kids here that are dehydrated and starving. We only have so much time. Over."

Mason looked at Tyler with a grim expression. There were children in that building. No man could deny the reality of the feelings of guilt that would flow through him for eternity of they did nothing. Only heartless scum of the earth could sit by and let children die whether it be from those corpses, or starvation.

"We have to do something." Mason shrugged and shook his head; causing Tyler to droop his shoulders. "We have to _try. _If we don't, I'll never sleep again. I _cannot_…let this stand. If you don't want to come, then that's fine, but I have to go."

Tyler crossed his arms and looked at the ground. The arrogant side of him wanted to say "Fuck em'" but the human side of him wanted them to make it more than anything. He knew the odds of Mason and him getting there, or getting out were slim, but did it matter anymore? He really didn't know, but he **DID** know he couldn't let his friend go off alone.

"I'll go," Tyler nodded, "If you want to go then I'm in." He regretted the statement before it even came out of his mouth.

"Ok." Mason nodded and put the CB to his mouth. "Tom, this is Mason Krauss. I am about nine miles from Pembleton. How long can you sit and wait? Over." Mason and Tyler stared at the CB as they waited for their response. It came moments later.

"Well I'm no Doctor, but I'm guessing we have about twelve hours before people start dropping. We've been here for two days locked in the main lobby. We have no water… all we want is water…. Over." His voice was that of despair.

"Ok Tom," Mason swallowed nervously, "We're going to see what we can do. What is the situation like outside? Over."

"I don't know for sure. I know that those- those things are pounding at the doors around us. There are National Guardsmen somewhere outside, and they've been shooting people for days. I haven't heard a lot of shots, but every once in a while I hear a barrage of fire. Over."

"Fuck…" Mason said dryly and shook his head. "Ok Tom, we're going to talk this over and I'll get back to you. Stay by the radio. Over."

"Roger that." Tom said nervously, and the radio went silent.

"That's a big fucking list of problems." Mason looked dully at Tyler and shook his head with a disgusted grunt. "We have ten round of 30-06 ammo, and thirty-seven rounds of 45 ACP ammo. How many rounds of twelve-Gauge do you have?" Mason watched as the curly haired young man looked at the shotgun and counted silently to himself.

"Thirty-two after the guy on the deck. Not a lot, but I can kill thirty-two of them if I remember the whole face-thing." Tyler nodded coolly and looked off down the gravel driveway. "I want to save someone."

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "Me too."

"Hey." Both Tyler and Mason jumped at the sound of Aya's voice. They both sighed as she smiled cutely at them. "What's up?"

"A fucking shit-show." Tyler said energetically. "And not enough fucking booze."

"Or bullets," Mason added calmly. "Its a **BIG** fucking shit-show." Aya's eyes went nervously to him. "There's some people in town that need help." He shook his head sadly. "A whole bunch of fucking kids and some adults." His face rose and his eyes met with Aya's. "We're just kind of trying to figure out how much we're capable of. We're counting the ammo and all."

"Oh." Aya trailed off. "Well I promised myself I wouldn't do this… but I have something since you guys need it." She turned toward the house, but hesitated when they didn't move. "Are you coming?"

"Oh I'm pretty sure neither of us have _came _in a while." Tyler tightened his lips as he tried not to snicker. Aya just rolled her eyes.

"Ok perv." Aya grinned. "Come here though."

Mason and Tyler followed Aya into her Grandmother's room and watched her silently as she slid open the closet doors. She turned back to them after a moment with a steel ammo box. She put in on the bed and opened the top.

"This was my grandpa's," She pulled a Mil-Spec Colt 1911 out of the box and laid it on the bed, "I kind of just wanted it to sit this whole thing out because it was his, but you guys need it." She looked back in the box and took out a box of bullets. "My dad shot it like a year ago, but not a lot. There's still some bullets in there."

Mason hastily opened the box and nodded appreciatively when he saw how many were there. It was kind of like winning 20 dollars with a three dollar scratch off. It was sweet, but not breath-taking.

"There's thirty-six bullets here." Mason nodded and looked at the Colt. "Aya you can put the pistol back in the box and save on it. We have two forty-rive caliber pistols already. We don't have to steal your grandpa's. That's a real nice pistol by the way." He turned to Tyler. "Ok, we have three mags for the 4506, and four mags for the Colt Commander. That equals fifty-two rounds. Eight each for the 4506 and seven each for the Colt. That leaves seven rounds each to dangle around in our pockets should we end up going."

"That only equals sixty-six though." Tyler corrected him. "There's 73 total bullets."

"I know it." Mason nodded confidently, but we ought to leave a few rounds for that Mil-Spec 45 in case Aya-"

"I have more." Aya interrupted and went back to the closet as Mason watched; dumbfounded. Aya pulled a rifle from the closet and it gleamed in Mason's eyes. It was an M-1 Garand in almost-perfect condition. Tyler's eyes gleamed too. Even a man with little interest in Military weapons appreciated the M-1. She laid it on the bed and shrugged as she looked the two silent young men over.

"H-how much ammo do you have for it." Mason stuttered softly as he picked it up. "Please tell me you have two-thousand rounds of surplus ammunition and hundreds of bandoliers." Aya just went back to the closet and pulled out a belt with several little ammo pouches on it. She laid that on the bed too.

"I don't know how many rounds are in it."

Mason quickly opened each pocket and pulled out the contents. He threw them on the bed and nodded happily. This was a direct gift from God.

"Fifty-six rounds of 30-06 ball ammunition on bandoliers." Mason's eyes slowly went to Tyler, who was nodding in satisfaction, then back to Aya. He grabbed her around the waist, tipped her, and kissed her on the lips. She didn't fight back and he slowly let go of her.

"Don't ever do that without asking me." Aya said; out of breath, and Mason smiled.

"I couldn't help it." Mason grinned, and he turned back to Tyler, whose arms were crossed; unimpressed. "Could this get any better?" Mason beamed.

"Yeah," Tyler nodded convincingly, "no dead people."

"Point taken." Mason nodded. "Now let's get down to business."

For more than an hour, Tyler and Mason discussed the problems they could potentially face inside the city. The most harrowing was the possibility of well-placed fire from National Guard soldiers inside city-limits. The rest included the obvious troubles that large numbers of the dead could bring. They knew getting stuck in the middle of the city would mean certain death if they didn't have a good plan in place. It didn't help that they had no map of the city, or any sure information on how many people were still alive, or how much of the population had been killed by the National Guard's original assault. Their plan became thin and basic.

"I want you to get to about 300-hundred yards of city limits, then let me out of the truck. I'm going to go in and have a look-see for a little bit. If things look clear as far as National Guard, I'll come back to the truck and we'll creep on in. I don't want to have to fire unless its absolutely necessary. These things are retarded at best. They move slow and they're only dangerous in groups or if they catch you off guard. Everything needs to be as quick and quiet as possible if we want to get out, or even in." Mason leaned back in his seat and stretched. "We need to bring some jugs of water and any food we can "hoof." These are kids and possible allies at stake. Just like those things, we're more effective in groups. Who knows what kind of people are in that group either. For all we know there are hunters, doctors, cops, ex-military personnel-"

"Or Businessmen and teachers…" Tyler butted in pessimistically. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the plan yet.

"Well that's what I'm saying." Mason nodded. "We don't know. But that shouldn't be our motivation. These are people and they have just as much a right to live as we do."

"We still don't have a way to move them. We can't take thirty people in the truck-bed. It would be impossible." Tyler shook his head and groaned. "This is fucking messy dude."

"Then we'll have to take them in groups of eight or ten until we have them all. If that's necessary then we'll do it. I'm not leaving anyone out there to die."

"I know that dude." Tyler said sternly. "I just don't want to get caught in the middle of something we can't handle. It pointless for us to die along with them; regardless of what we're thinking we're going to do." He shook his head; unsure, and wrinkled his nose. "If we're going to die saving these people, then I'm pretty sure they're not going to make it alone. How could they? We got out didn't we? Why couldn't they?" Tyler got up from his seat at the table and walked over to the fridge. He opened it and took out a pitcher of orange-juice Aya had made. He poured a glass and left the pitcher on the counter. "You have to remember that we're in this together. You can't always make a decision on your own. I know this is all morally sound and stuff, but we should really hear what Aya has to say… and what I have to say. Dude, you know what I mean right?"

"Do you want me to tell them that we can't make it?" Mason looked up from the table sadly. "If that's what you two want, then that's what I'll do."

Aya walked in from the hallway and she looked bleakly at Mason. Tyler was giving the same look.

"I think you should go see what you can do." Aya said softly; almost whispering. She looked at Tyler and he nodded hesitantly.

"I think we should too." Tyler turned from the table; looking at the floor. "But if its all bat-shit crazy then we should just come back. There's no reason to die for people who are already lost. It's not our call."

"Well we're going to have to play a tactical game here then Thompson." Mason puffed up his chest and tipped his head in thought. "The National Guard knows what its doing as far as Urban Operations. I do to just because I have mental problems," Mason snickered, "But actually putting myself up against armed soldiers isn't something I'm fucking excited to do." He sighed and let his forehead smack on the table. "I really wish we had internet access."

"The internet works." Aya said in a "you're a dumbfuck" tone. "I've been checking my emails since you guys got here."

Mason sat up and looked at her with wide-eyes. He got up from his seat with his jaw half-agape and grabbed her by the shoulders. He glanced at Tyler, then back at her. His heart was beating twice as fast as normal.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me? Is it dial-up or what? The power is out you know?" He stared into Aya's eyes and she pushed him back; crossing her arms over her chest.

"You guys didn't seem interested in any of that. You just stared at the TV." She turned toward the northern part of the house and pointed. "There's a tower out there my Grandma put out about a year ago. It's all High-speed. Everything that worked before works now; even face-book." She crossed her arms and pulled away from Mason. He just shrugged and looked at Tyler.

"Do you have a lap-top?" Mason asked; looking back at Aya. She nodded.

"Yeah. "I'll go grab it. It only has about 25 minutes worth of power left before it shuts off." She left the kitchen for a moment and returned with a Mac lap-top. Mason just grinned as he saw it.

"Shit, how much did that fucker cost you?" Mason spat as Tyler and him watched her set in on the table. She put her hands on her hips and stepped away. She just shrugged.

"I have no idea. My dad bought it for me." She watched quietly as Mason sat down in front of it and stared dealing with the internet-browser.

"Oh those fuckers are expensive." Tyler stepped up behind Mason and leaned down. "Search for Pembleton. Then we can figure out where we're going before we get there."

Mason quickly pulled up the internet site and wrinkled his eye brows as he looked over a zoomed-out map of the city.

"Here, zoom in." Tyler pointed at an "Addition" sign on the screen and Mason clicked it. The screen zoomed in to a much more clear version of the map and Tyler pointed out which road they'd be entering the city at. That just left the position of the Hospital. Mason searched the screen for a Legend and grunted as he spotted it.

"One-thirty-eight." Mason pointed at the number designated "Hospital" and pointed at the position on the map. "Looks like it's about a mile." Mason looked over his shoulder at Tyler and tipped his head in a passive way. "If we had to, we could make it on foot."

"Fuck that." Tyler spat with a shake of his head. "If we can't make it with the truck, then we're not going to be able to help them. Think about it dude; If we go in there on foot, we're going to be in the same position as them. I'm not doing that."

"Fair enough." Mason nodded and he scanned the map. He pointed as he checked the Legend some more. "High School, Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Police Department." Mason Tapped on the screen. "We should check out the P.D. and see if there's anything good sitting around there."

"Any Gun stores?" Tyler crossed his arms and yawned.

"Hard to say..." Mason frowned. "There's a Pawn shop and a hunting place. If things aren't bat-shit crazy we could check them out. If any store has guns it's probably been hit already."

"Right." Tyler nodded. "Well that's it then... what do we need?"

"Well let's look it over." Mason sighed and stood from the table. They had a lot to prepare for.

While Tyler jotted down the directions from the computer, Mason filled plastic milk-jugs with water and went through the pantry for imperishable food. There wasn't alot, but starving people wouldn't complain. It only took about twenty minutes to get things together.

"If we die, I'm going to hold it against you for eternity." Tyler said as he slid water jugs into the bed of the pickup box.

"Oh stop." Mason grinned as he threw the food in along with the water. "Don't tell me you're not excited."

"Excited?" Tyler stopped and stared as Mason happily walked to the Cab of the truck; knowing Tyler was staring at him. "Winning the Lottery would be something to be excited about. Not dead cannibals trying to eat your face."

"They're totally in the same ball-park." Mason said with a huff and he leaned into the truck and put the Mossberg by Tyler's seat.

"They are no way in the same fucking ball-park." Tyler shook his head as Mason walked around the truck and handed him a cigarette with a grin printed on his face. "Those two aren't even in the same fucking sport."

"Game face Tyler." Mason crossed his arms as he beamed with delight. "Gotta get your game-face on."

"Fuck you man," Tyler puffed out a line of smoke, "I'm starting to get pissed here."

As Mason laughed, Aya walked out of the house with an unimpressed look on her face. Mason became serious as she walked up to them. Tyler just grinned a sarcastic grin.

"So, where am I going to be during all of this?" She put her hands on her hips and looked into Mason's eyes.

"Right the fuck here." Tyler said with excitement as he stepped around her and walked over to the cab of the truck. "Did you really think you'd get to come with us?" He snickered as he opened the driver's door and climbed in.

"I want to stay here anyway." Aya said seriously; looking at Mason. "I have to be here in-case my family comes." She tipped her head as Mason crossed his arms and looked at the ground as he nodded.

"Yeah, I thought you might feel that way." Mason kicked the dirt on the ground a little and bit his lip as he looked at her. "We'll leave the Glock, and that 22 pistol. There should be plenty of ammo if anything comes up." Tyler started the truck and Mason glanced at it as it began to rumble. "We'll come back... as soon as we can."

"Tally Forth!" Tyler roared out the window with a British accent and honked the horn as Aya nodded and Mason rolled his eyes.

"I'll be ok." Aya took a step toward the house. "You come back now, all right?"

"Yeah." Mason smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you got it." He pointed at the front door. "Keep that fucker locked."

Aya waved at them as they drove down the drive-way. It was nine miles to Pembleton; hardly a blink of an eye. Mason Squeezed the hand-guard of the Remington 710 as he stared at the passing fields. He had no idea what to expect. How could he?

_Long Wait? I'll try to do the next one faster. It's hard to figure out what to do that will keep people interested and happy. As for me? I'm happy with what I've done so far. I only expect it to get better. Remember to review though. The more I get, the better and faster I write._


	8. Chapter 8: The Great American Nightmare

CHAPTER 8

THE GREAT AMERICAN NIGHTMARE

"Jesus." Tyler said out loud as the outskirts of Pembleton came within viewing distance of the pickup. There were abandoned vehicles all over the road and in the ditch. Some of them looked to have been shot up, or blown up. Tyler's grip tensed on the steering-wheel. The presence of the dead was becoming more apparent as well. They were scattered without order in every direction. There were many… too many.

"I'm counting about sixty-eight so far." Mason readjusted his position in his seat as he scanned everything. There was too much destruction and too much debris to get a good look at anything. He clicked back the Commander's hammer and put the safety on. They hardly had enough bullets to put a dent in the masses they were seeing. Where were the Federal troops? The N.B.C. Soldiers? Where was the support? The whole picture was a huge blow on his morale.

"Christ, this is a fucking mess." Tyler croaked; swerving the truck around a man who was wandering dully through the road. His eyes scanned the gray-looking city. It was so lifeless; like the night of a blizzard. But there was no snow. This wasn't an innocent act of Mother-Nature. Death hung in the air.

"You got one in the steel in the Mossberg?" Mason grabbed the Shotgun by the pump and pulled up. Tyler nodded; weaseling the pickup between a few abandoned cars.

"Yeah, and there's five in the tube." Tyler's stomach became nauseous as he passed the first business inside city-limits. It was a gas-station; a Super-Pumper. The entire building was burned to the ground. It looked like the pumps had exploded. Nothing looked like it should. It seemed in every direction an abandoned vehicle, or the abused skeleton of a building sat dormant; evacuated by those who once loved and protected them.

"Take a right at Main." Mason said dryly as he looked at Tyler's sketch of a map. Once they were on Main it was only five blocks to the Hospital. Not much of a distance in a Pickup truck. At least it didn't seem that way, until they took the right.

"FUCK!" Tyler hit the breaks and his eyes bulged out of his head. Not only was there an unmanned police barricade blocking the road, but an uncountable mass of the dead turned their gaze to the truck as it came to a halt. Their unison of moans muffled the sound of the engine.

"REVERSE, REVERSE, REVERSE!" Mason roared as Tyler shifted the gears and hit the accelerator. The Truck peeled out blindly as it tore backward in a desperate flee.

"Watch it!" The box of the pickup collided with a van abandoned haphazardly in the middle of the street. Tyler put the truck into drive and again the tires squealed as he attempted a high-speed U-turn. In the terrifying confusion, his mind didn't register the light pole at the corner of Main Avenue. Mason's side of the truck collided with it head on, mid-acceleration. Mason opened his door immediately; punching Tyler in the shoulder as he put a leg out to meet the pavement.

"Come on, man!" He turned and yelped in horror as a rotting woman stepped up to him and grabbed his arm. He shoved her back and shot her in the thigh with the Commander; dropping her to the ground. Before he could turn to grab the rifle out of the Cab, two more corpses lumbered around the corner; too close to ignore. He shot the first, a fat man in a robe, in the face quickly; spewing his brain matter into the air behind him. Mason pivoted and re-aimed, but the other man's face disintegrated in unison with a loud boom before he could fire. As Mason glanced over his shoulder, Tyler pumped the shotgun. One down, a thousand to go.

"This way!" Mason grabbed the rifle out of the cab and took a right off of Main Avenue. His heart-rate doubled when he saw a matching mass of the dead coming from that direction as well and growing as it moved. Tyler ran up beside him and stopped. His face twisted in terror. Mason's eyes shot desperately back and forth. They had to break contact or they'd be swarmed for sure. He locked onto an alley about a half block from them. If they ran, they'd hit it just before the mass did.

"Alley!" Mason took off and Tyler followed. The amount of corpses was unbelievable. It was amazing that many people even lived in the city. The numbers boggled Mason's mind. Even during celebrations in cities this size, these amounts of people were seldom seen in one area. Apparently only being dead was an exciting enough occasion to bring people together.

With each step Tyler was sure he was going to die. The Corpses were seemingly moving faster than them. He couldn't contemplate what they'd accomplish even if they made it to the alley. Who was to say that there weren't just as many corpses coming from there? It seemed hopeless. While the sight of the things was the worst, the smell wasn't far behind. He could only imagine what it would be like to have them surround him and devour him. He could feel his body begin to shake even more than it already was. They didn't have a chance.

Mason took a hard right when he reached the alley and didn't slow down much when he saw there was a small group of the dead scattered randomly all the way to the end of the block. In a bit of a jog he approached the first as it noticed him. He shot it in the side of the head and it teetered forward and landed on its face. He re-aimed, walking now, and shot the second in the mouth. Its jaw shattered; hanging from strands of shredded flesh and he fired again; this time putting a hole right beside its nose. The body fell. As Mason put in another mag, Tyler passed him; glancing over his shoulder as he ran.

"They're coming!" Tyler yipped; centering the Mossberg's Ghost-Ring sights on the head of a corpse that was standing still; staring dumbly at him. He pulled the trigger and the gun barked. The head of the target seem to blow up like a watermelon. The body stood still for a moment as if nothing had happened, and fell into a pile as Tyler ran passed it.

_Fire and maneuver, fire and maneuver. _Mason said calmly in his head as he moved forward. He knew without looking that the mass was closing in behind them. If only they could make it to the end of the alley. Then they could easily-

As Mason thought clearly to himself; the worst possible scenario unfolded before him. As Tyler fired at two more corpses before them; the beginning of another mass of the dead began to funnel in at the other end of the alley.

Tyler stopped as he saw what Mason was seeing and froze. His heart sank. What now? The images of them staring down at him as they ate him flew through his mind. No, he couldn't let that happen. It was an alley, there was always a way out. He looked to his right. There was a door. He ran up to it as Mason ran up beside him and he shoved his shoulder into it. It didn't budge.

"It's a fucking steel framed, steel door!" Tyler stepped back and shot at the knob. It broke off, but when he gave it another kick, nothing happened. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tyler stepped away and glanced at both ends of the alley. He could see nothing but bodies shuffling forward, closing them in. His gaze shifted again. There was a stairway leading to the second floor of a building not twenty-yards away. Without saying a word, he took off toward it.

Tyler swore as he tripped on the first step of the stair-case and crawled quickly up to the landing. He ran desperately up the second set of steps; only pausing to look as Mason ran up behind him.

"This better fucking work, cause this is it!" Mason yelled as he looked at the alley below them. The corpses were too close to go back down the stairs. If they couldn't open the door, they were done.

"Oh, its going to fucking open!" Tyler kicked the door with all of his might. Nothing. The door shook a little, but didn't give. He brought up the shotgun and shot at the knob again. It bent inward a little, but not enough to do anything. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Tyler roared. He looked toward the bottom of the stairs. They were beginning to climb them.

"Kick it again, kick it again!" Mason screamed in terror. Tyler repeatedly kicked, but it didn't give. It was burglar proofed. Someone's idea of personal safety was going to kill them. Mason stepped back and yelled into the air as loud as he could. As he stared into the sky, he notice the roof wasn't too much higher. "The roof!" Mason stepped beside the wall, threw the rifle up, then knelt. "I'll lift you up."

Tyler climbed onto Mason's shoulders and Mason rose until he was standing. Tyler threw the Mossberg onto the roof and pulled himself up rapidly. As he climbed onto the flat roof of the building, Mason began shooting. The dead were coming up from the landing now.

"Come on Mason, come on! Fuck them! Give me your fucking hand.!" Mason emptied the rest of his magazine; causing a corpse to topple into the ones behind it and he grabbed Tyler's hand. As Tyler hoisted Mason up, he could see the dead coming up that last step; locked onto Mason's legs. In one last desperate pull, Tyler yanked Mason's 220 pound frame up and onto the roof just as the dead grabbed at his feet. Mason collapsed next to him on the shingles.

"I'm so glad you lift weights." Mason said through a deep breath. Tyler looked at him and nodded.

"I wish you didn't. Think you could get any bigger you asshole?" He let his head fall back and he looked to the sky. Mason just let out a half-terrified laugh.

"Looks like we might be stuck here." Mason sat up. "Man, that went to hell pretty fast."

"All because of that dumbass pig-roadblock." Tyler spat. "You got any cigarettes?" Mason took a pack out of his jeans.

"I got three packs. Have all you want." Mason nodded as Tyler took two out of the pack and stuck them both in his mouth. Mason lit them both and snickered as he put his own in his mouth.

"Right here." Tyler pointed to their right. "All these buildings are built right beside each other. There's like six inches between them. We can just walk on top of them until we get to the other end of the block." Mason looked where he was pointing and nodded.

"Good call. We can see where there's a lot of them from up here too."

"Can you fucking believe all of them?" Tyler grumbled; shaking his head in disgust. "Can you imagine what New York, or L.A. are like? There's no way… no fucking way anyone is alive in those places. There's millions of these things."

"Yeah," Mason let out a drag, "I guess we know what to avoid now."

"I knew this was a bad idea." Tyler grunted. "I fucking told you." He looked away and let out a deep sigh.

"Well we ain't dead yet." Mason climbed to his feet and walked to the edge of the building. He looked down and shook his head. All the corpses were still in the alley; desperately trying to get on top of the roof. They stretched their arms toward him and moaned when they saw him. "I got a treat for ya." Mason unzipped his pants and Tyler hissed with laughter as Mason peed on them.

"Way to egg them on. Now they really want your meat." Tyler tossed the half-smoked cigarettes away and got to his feet as well. Mason turned to him and shrugged as he zipped up his jeans.

"Need to have a little fun." He looked back over the edge and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I bet if they don't see us leave they'll hang around here until they see someone else." Tyler walked up beside him and peered over the edge.

"Yeah, I don't think they're real big on critical thinking." Tyler hawked a loogie and spit it down on them. "Think we can play em'?"

"Sure do." Mason nodded coolly. "I sure fucking do."

For fifteen minutes, Mason and Tyler did things they would never have done in public before. Tyler roared death metal lyrics with his unbelievably capable voice box and Mason danced to no beat. They roared and sang as the corpses reached for them; desperate for their most recent meal. It didn't take long for every square foot of the alley to be covered by some stiffened, rotting individual; their eyes looking nowhere but at the young men on the roof.

Once the alley looked as packed as it could get, Mason and Tyler used team-work to climb onto the neighboring buildings. The first two were higher, but after that, the last was lower. They dropped to their feet, panting, and quietly crept to the edge and peered into the street. There were a few of the dead, but not enough to cause concern.

"Seven of em." Mason said and then peeked carefully and looked at the alley. There were countless numbers at the mouth of it, but their focus was on where the two men been before.

"There's the hospital." Tyler whispered; pointing at the tallest building in the area a few blocks away. "Think we can make it?"

"Still want to go to the hospital huh?" Mason smiled; impressed. If Tyler had wanted simply to duck out, it wouldn't have bothered him. He'd gotten Tyler into quite the mess, and he was beginning to feel guilty about it.

"Where else?" Tyler shrugged. "We're not going to go to Aya's on foot and I need a place to lay low for a bit and think. I'm kind of at overload here." He scratched his head and sighed. "I wish we could have gotten some of the supplies out of the truck though." He stared toward the hospital. "Those people are going to die without them."

"Well." Mason rubbed his chin. "If you want to do something crazy, we could always sneak around and get to the truck. We could grab some shit, throw it in one of those cop cars that are sitting by that roadblock, and take off again."

"You are one seriously fucked up individual. We don't even know if they're in running condition." Tyler batted an irritated eye at Mason. "That's a worse move than coming here was in the first place."

"I know, I know." Mason put his hands up in defense. "I just thought I'd toss the idea out there."

"Well it was stupid. You hear that? Stupid." Tyler took his attention off of Mason and pointed down the street to their front, left. "It looks dead, err, clear over there. Hit the ground running and we could probably lose em. Not a sure thing or anything. I'd hate to be wrong."

"Yeah, I know." Mason agreed with a nod. "We either die down there, or die up here though. Up here we starve or dehydrate. Down there, we can at least play cat and mouse a bit."

"There's a lot of fucking cats down there." Tyler grunted. He Didn't like the idea, or the situation. He'd have given his right nut for a helicopter and a good pilot at the moment. He didn't feel like running again either, but their options were slim to none.  
"I know it. Too bad we don't have an M-60E4 and five thousand rounds of ammo right now. That'd put a dent in em'."

"Yeah, we could go for a lot of things right now." Tyler sighed and shrugged. "So down a block, then a right turn and down about three more blocks."

"You got it." Mason huffed. "Ready?"

It wasn't a long drop to the street. The two hung down as far as they could from the ledge before letting go. Their confidence fell through the floor the second they touched the pavement of the sidewalk.

Mason got his footing first. Without saying a word, he took of in a dead sprint toward the end of the first block. Tyler was close behind him; trying to close the gap between them before any of the dead took notice to their presence. It didn't take long for a few lifeless moans to call out to them, but they took the first corner before the masses could spot them.

Tyler turned right only a moment after Mason. He nearly ran into his friend who was knelt looking straight ahead.

"Man I'm glad they can't fucking talk." Mason whispered without looking up. Tyler didn't say anything. He just nodded as he too knelt; watching the opposite direction.

"What are we stopped for?" Tyler whispered. "Let's fucking move." He shifted uncomfortably as he eyed a corpse that was lumbering toward them from across the street.

"Look straight ahead." Mason rubbed his nose. Tyler looked passed him. There were two black matching heavy-duty-looking vehicles abandoned. One had all of the windows shot out and was crashed into the corner of a Liquor Store. The second looked untouched. There was blood everywhere outside of it. A gun was lying nearby and a little further away what looked like the remains of a person, or maybe two or three. Tyler couldn't tell.

"Look cute?" Mason smirked.

"Which part?" Tyler grunted passively and adjusted his grip on the Mossberg. "The gun, the truck, or the bodies?"

"Any of em." Mason glanced at the corpse that was approaching. "Lets take a look." He ran forward again and Tyler followed. A few moments later, Mason reached the gun. He reached down and picked it up; nodding confidently, then looking around. There were more corpses locked onto them now, but nowhere near as many as there had been. They weren't cornered this time.

"UMP-40 with an Acog." Mason slung the Rifle over his shoulder more comfortably and his eyes wandered over to the human remains. It looked like a torso in a tactical-vest. He motioned toward the crashed Truck. "Go check the other truck."

As Tyler ran over to the other truck, Mason went over to the body. It was wearing a tactical vest alright, but that was it. There were no arms, no head, no legs. Just a torso in a vest. Mason let out a sigh and shuttered. He wanted the vest.

Tyler swung open the crashed truck's door and hesitated. There were four passengers. They'd all been shot with something big. It looked like it was probably a Ma Deuce; the cute name for the M2HB 50 caliber machinegun. They looked like they'd been completely shredded to nothing. They had pirate-like treasure in the vehicle around them though. Tyler felt his insides warm up. He turned to Mason as he walked up wearing the corpses blood-stained Tac-Vest.

"I think I'm going to pee." Tyler said in a dreamy voice. Mason leaned around him and his jaw dropped open. They had guns and ammo in the car. While one or two of the guns looked to have been hit by stray bullets and destroyed, at least two were in ready-to-go condition.

"Holy shit!" Mason's legs began to shake with excitement. He excitedly looked to the other truck and pointed. "Check it, and then see if it will start. We neeeeeeeed this shit. Go." Tyler nodded and ran over to the truck, leaving Mason to drool.

_Leg Holsters, tac-vests, military-grade weaponry._ Mason spoke to himself loudly in his head. These guys had to be either Government Personnel, or Private Military Contractors. They weren't Cops, and they weren't National Guard, that was for sure. He jumped when the engine of the rear truck come to life. _Shit, shit, shit. _Mason dove into the truck and grabbed a Second UMP-40 that was lying on the floor of the driver's side as Tyler ran up and opened the back side-door. In desperate speed, he began pulling as much equipment off of the dead operators as he could as Tyler ran back and forth, throwing it all into the working truck. As they moved, they could both feel the presence of the dead building around them again.

As Mason ripped off the last of the Operator's Vests, he looked up. He felt his legs begin to shake immediately. The masses were coming. Not in full force yet, but it was building. He looked to Tyler. He was in the Driver's seat of the truck with a desperate look on his face. He looked back to the rear-cab of the truck. There was a big, green, steel box lying by itself.

"Fuck," Mason spat and he climbed in. As Tyler began to honk the truck's horn, he felt the grip of the box and yanked it out. He spun around a leered back. Three corpses were right there in front of him. Several more were coming from every direction. As he stepped back, rapid gunfire erupted. Bullets peppered their bodies; knocking two to the ground. Mason took of passed them; throwing the steel box into the truck as he came up to it. As he slammed his door, Tyler took off; slower than the first time they'd been in this predicament.

"That SMG works pretty good." Tyler said as Mason shook with a mixture of fear and excitement.

"I'm fucking glad you figured out how to use it." Mason grinned and slapped him excitedly on the shoulder. "How much gas do we have?"

"Looks like," Tyler glanced at the gauge, "just under a half-tank." He grinned as he ran the truck over a couple of oncoming corpses. The truck hardly shuttered as they were crushed beneath its weight.

"Get out of town for a couple minutes." Mason sighed. "We'll come right back."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Tyler smiled.

"Yeah." Mason nodded. "Check how much shit we have, load up, come back in and get those people."

"Right." Tyler nodded confidently. "Tally Forth."

It took them ten minutes to get far enough out of town where there were no corpses. When the coast was clear, Tyler pulled off onto a dirt road and popped the rear-hatch. The list of things was almost too good to be true. It was as follows.

_2 count H&K UMP-40 with 11 total magazines_

_1 count Benelli M1014 with 56 total rounds of 00-Buck on a bandoleer_

_1 count Colt Commando with flat top, Acog, and 9 total magazines_

_1 count M4A1 with Master-key, 5 magazines, and 1 C-mag_

_1 count USP-45 LED Light and 5 magazines_

_1 count Glock 22 with LED Light and 4 magazines_

_2 count Glock 17 with LAM and 7 total magazines_

_5 count Fragmentation Grenade_

_2 count red smoke Grenade_

"I can't fucking believe this." Mason crossed his arms and let out a hard, excited laugh as he kicked the dirt. "Dude, we have tons of guns and tons of ammo. We hit the fucking jackpot."

"I know it." Tyler nodded in appreciation. "Did you look in that steel case?" He pointed at the metal box Mason had risked his life for.

"Oh, fuck no I didn't." Mason pulled the box to the end of the rear-cab and popped open the hooks. He opened the top and grunted. "Empty." He looked at Tyler and shook his head. "Almost got eaten for a tin-can."

"How 'bout that?" Tyler raised his eye brows. "You going to stop doing that sometime?"

"Dude… if we die now then we totally suck at living anyway." Mason grinned as Tyler tipped his head and nodded thoughtfully.

"Well those guys got killed. Same thing could happen to us. And surely to you if you keep pulling dumbass stunts." Tyler shrugged. "Just a thought."

"Well it looks to me like they got ambushed. As long as that doesn't happen to us, then I think we can pretty much run a place the size of Pembleton. You dig?"

"I think we should get in and get out dude. Quick and clean." Tyler looked of in the direction of Pembleton. He didn't want to make things complicated. They felt like they had a lot of power right then. With power came problems.

"I'll let you think about it." Mason looked back at the weapons and the gear. "Well, let's get into Character."

Both Mason and Tyler basically picked the same things for Gear. They both had a tac-vest with leg-holster and leg ammo-pouch connected to it and they both took three Frag-grenades. It was the weaponry choices that showed their true colors.

Mason chose the Colt Commando for his main Weapon. He took the C-mag that had been with the M-4 and slipped it into its pouch which he slung over his neck and shoulder along with as many magazines would fit in his vest. For his sidearm he chose the USP due to the fact that he knew the USP was as reliable as they came, and as accurate as any off-the-wrack pistol could be. Having almost the most magazines of any of the pistols and being in 45 ACP added to his liking.

Tyler on the other hand took the Benelli as his main weapon. He put the 56 round bandolier across his chest and the rest of the ammo from the Mossberg into a few of the pockets on his vest. As A Secondary, he also slung one of the UMP-40's over his chest and filled his remaining pockets with magazines. For his Sidearm, he picked one of the Glock 17's. It was simple, and had more magazines than anything else, plus the laser on it. He knew that would give him the bit of help he needed to put his shots where they needed to go.

The two battle-ready young men stepped away from each other and nodded coolly as they looked each other over.

"You look like a bad motherfucker my friend." Mason lifted his chin cockily and smirked.

"As do you Dragon-Slayer." Tyler said in a deep, poetic voice. "Are you ready to do battle beside me young one?"

"I will do my best my master." Mason cackled and looked down at the rifle strapped over his chest. "Aren't you fucking glad we lifted weights so fucking much? We can carry all kinds of shit. Imagine if we were Emo or something. That'd be a bitch."

"No shit dude. I'm glad I wasn't a useless pile for the last two years of College like I was Freshman and Junior year." They both nodded in agreement and turned toward the truck.

"You know," Mason said thoughtfully as he walked to the passenger side door, "I think this is one of those LMV's. They're made in Sweden or some damn place."

"Sweet," Tyler said as he closed his door, "What's LMV stand for?"

"Light Multi-Role Vehicle." Mason lit a cigarette as the engine roared to life. "Oh, let's make sure we grab the extra fuel from the pickup too so we can keep this beast rolling."

"Roger, roger." Tyler grunted, then burped. "You know, I'm kind of hungry. We should stop at a "Loaf'n'Jug" or something." The truck rolled off, back onto the Highway.

The ride back to Pembleton seemed to last forever. Mason could feel the adrenaline running through his veins as they started spotting corpses again. Tyler was feeling the same. Half of the fear that had been living inside them was temporarily at rest. It seemed God was smiling on them that day. Even so, in a world where the dead have returned to life, everything good seemed to come at a price.

"All right, all right," Mason chimed in a confident, commander-type voice, "Don't shoot until they're close. No unnecessary firing, let's conserve ammo. In, out, and then let em' fuck off."

Tyler said nothing as he drove. Instead of taking the pointless right turn into the road-block, he just rolled the LMV to a stop by the crashed pickup and shifted her into Park.

Mason hopped out quickly, and before he could help himself, he drew the USP and fired a precise round into the head of a dead old man that was stepping up to him. Without a moments hesitation, he pivoted and put another round through the face of a teenage-looking boy who was hovering by the pickup. His body tumbled and Mason re-holstered his weapon.

Tyler didn't hesitate with his weapon either. There were plenty of corpses approaching their position, and he had ammo to spare. He fired the Benelli quite rapidly; twisting at his hip to re-aim. Every time he pulled the trigger, a cloud of half-clotted blood and hair would puff out and a body would tumble. He dropped three women, and a man before he paused. As he looked over his shoulder, Mason was already throwing stuff into the LMV.

"Just keep them off me!" Mason barked; throwing a jug of water into the back seat. "I can get this!"

Tyler nodded and locked his gaze onto a man dressed in a gray-colored suit. He raised the shotgun barrel and squeezed the trigger. The gun echoed and to Tyler's entertainment, the man's head fell off. Tyler cackled loudly and turned. There was a mass forming about a block away. He grunted; ignoring the distant threat and let his shotgun hang over his chest. He drew the Glock and clicked the laser on. He placed the Red-Dot on the nose of a mid-thirties woman and squeezed. Her head seemed to twitch as the bullet entered her brain-cavity and exited out the back of her skull with a wet-squashing sound. She tumbled backward. Tyler re-aimed at a fat man who was walking toward him alarmingly fast and shot him in the side of the mouth. He didn't seem to notice the bullet wound in his face and he kept coming, so Tyler put another round in his forehead and he fell into a lifeless pile like a rag-doll. A really big, round rag-doll.

"Mason, there's a big group of them coming down this road-" Mason's Colt Commando roared and Tyler's eyes went to him. He was firing into the upper body of a man who had stepped too close. The burst only lasted a second, but it seemed to push half of the man's contents out through his back. As Tyler watched, Mason adjusted the selector switch on the Commando to "Semi-Auto" and began taking impressively fast head-shots at everything that was approaching. In a matter of a seven seconds, Mason dropped twelve bodies.

"Are you ready?" Tyler yelled; stepping toward the LMV. He was feeling confident, but not confident enough to take on several hundred of the corpses.

"Yeah!" Mason shouted back; taking another shot. "Let me empty this mag!"

"Fuck that dude!" Tyler roared. "There's a huge group coming from this way!"

Ignoring Tyler's warning, Mason switched the selector-switch to full-auto and emptied the rest of the magazine into a woman. He spun around as she fell and hopped into the passenger-side of the LMV.

"You are the weakest link." Tyler grumbled as he pulled the LMV away from the truck and took off toward the mass. Mason glanced at him uncomfortably as he switched magazines and wrinkled his nose.

"You're going to avoid them, right?" Mason stuck a Luck-Strike in his mouth and lit it up.

"Might as well." Tyler took a right down the same-alley they'd run down not an hour earlier. He brought up the vehicle's speed to thirty, and cautiously drove down a few unsuspecting corpses before emerging at the other end of the alley and ripping into the street. He forced the LMV left, then right. The hospital was in plain-view three blocks ahead of them. The destruction out front was evident, and hard to fathom.

"Fuck look at all those cars." Mason huffed; tightening his grip on the Colt Commando. He rubbed his nose and glanced back and forth. Hopefully those people hadn't croaked.

"All I give a shit is which door to go to." Tyler sighed dryly; slowing the car to 25 miles per hour as they entered the parking-lot. He was aware of the small groups of the dead wandering thoughtlessly in every direction. They surely noticed the LMV, and now they had a target.

"I don't fucking know." Mason scanned the building as they approached. "That looks like the main building there, but which fucking entrance? That front one looks completely blocked off." He was right. A car was parked in front of it. There was no entering there."

"Right there." Tyler pointed. There was a secondary entrance twenty yards east of the main entrance. The doors were steel, but there was a make-shift card-board sign that read "Enter here" on the wall next to it. The survivors were expecting them.

"Back into it." Mason giggled a little and shrugged. "Back right into it and they can open the doors. That way these fuckers can't get in no matter how fucking hard they try. It's fucking fool-proof." He eyed the corpses wandering toward them and shifted in his seat.

"Yeah, all right." Tyler turned the LMV as they approached the Hospital doors and then backed it up slowly to the building. He let the vehicle creep for a few moments before he felt the car shake a little bit from impact. Apparently they were in position. Tyler slammed his fist on the horn for a moment, then looked back over his shoulder. "I hope someone's fucking home."

"Yeah, no shit." Mason puffed his cigarette and tipped his head. He thought he heard something. A moment later, through the tinted windows, they saw the Hospital doors swing inward. It was go time.

"Well, let's go introduce ourselves." Mason grinned and climbed into the rear-cab. Tyler smirked. This would be interesting.

_Hey Guys. I managed to spit this one out fast because I was so excited about it. It was a hard decision to make, but I decided it was about time they got some real weaponry. I'm going to throw in some real problems to be solved in the next one. And don't worry, even bigger guns are on the way. Its not time for them yet though. I hope you enjoyed._


	9. Stuck in the middle with you

**CHAPTER 9**

**I'M WITH STUPID**

"What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." -Albert Pine

In a situation where you don't know what's coming, fear is often a very evident factor in your emotional state. While Mason and Tyler felt no fear with their LMV parked up against the Trail County Hospital's doors, it was quite a different story for the people inside.

Tyler popped the rear hatch and Mason swung it open. He hopped out with the Commando slung against his chest; expecting a warm welcome. He was surprised when he saw the barrel of a Glock pointed at his face by a nervous-looking black cop.

"Let me see your hands!"

"What the fuck's your problem?" Mason grunted; unimpressed. Tyler climbed out of the LMV and joined with his own scowl. Mason crossed his arms and smirked. "Ours are bigger than yours Tupac." Tyler let out a cackle and turned back to the LMV. He grabbed a bag of canned food and a jug of water and turned back to the tense situation behind him.

"Did you guys order food?" Tyler looked at the cop, then at a guy wearing glasses who was hovering behind the officer. "Hey, Rick Morannis, did you order the food?" Mason hissed with laughter as the guy frowned.

"Hey," Mason interrupted; trying to keep a straight face, "We talked to Tom Lund on the radio. He said you guys needed food and water." Mason shrugged. "Well, we're here."

"Yeah guys," The Cop holstered his Glock and turned to walk down the hall, "Sorry about that. You can't be too careful. Follow me."

"Grab some stuff Rick." Tyler motioned to the truck and the guy with glasses, now named Rick, grabbed as much as he could and began to follow them down the hall. Mason took the lazy route; walking confidently with his weapon in hand, looking cool and leaving the labor to everyone else.

It was a short walk to the branch-off in the hall way. There was a nurse's station and then two hallways. One branched left and one branched right. The one to the right was blocked off by doors and countless medical machines. The other seemed untouched. Tyler and Rick put there stuff down at the Nurse's station and looked around. The Cop had disappeared.

"Gave us the slip." Mason grunted. "Hope he comes back." A moment later, the Cop reappeared from a room on the left; looking calmer than before.

"Right in here man." The cop pointed to the room and Mason nodded; turning to Tyler and Rick. "You heard em' boys. In there." Mason walked off toward the room and Tyler rolled his eyes as he picked up the supplies again and followed.

Mason felt all the eyes on him as he entered the room. It appeared to be a type of lunch room. There were plenty of faces turned to him as he walked in. He tried desperately to scan them all and look cool at the same time. He noticed about twelve children. Their age groups varied. Everywhere from infancy to 12. Then there were teenagers; five of them. Two of them were sitting right by each other; probably dating. The girl was holding a baby.

Mason took a deep breath and tipped his head slightly as Tyler stepped in behind him. Everyone's eyes lit up as they saw he had supplies. They were obviously in dire need of both water and food. Mason smirked and looked at Tyler.

"I bet everyone's hungry."

It didn't take long for half of the food to disappear. They got happy looks from everyone, and curious looks from a lot of the kids. As Mason stood and talked to Lance Young, the cop, a little girl walked up to him with a foam cup in her hands; staring up at him. She was cute. Probably five years old with pig-tails and a little dress. She didn't look very concerned.

"Are you in the Police?" She asked confidently; staring up at him like he was any person she knew. Mason just smiled and knelt down. He shook his head; making sure his gun was on safe.

"Nope, but I should be."

"Are you an Army Man?" She ground the toe of her ballerina-type shoe into the floor as she took a sip of water and Mason chuckled.

"Nope, but I should be." He felt a flood of warm joy building inside him. He needed this.

"Then why do you have a big gun?" She stared at her empty cup and shrugged impartially; causing an even harder laugh to escape Mason's lungs.

"Well there are some bad guys outside who want to hurt everyone, and it's my job to stop them." Mason smiled and she looked at him with a worried frown.

"Are they going to hurt me too?" As she stared at him with her big, sad, brown eyes, Mason hesitated. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

"Well sweetheart, they're going to try, but I'm not going to let em'." As Mason looked at her, a big smile formed on her face and she twisted around and wandered back to her mother who smiled and mouthed a "thank-you" to him. Mason nodded and stood up as a wide-shouldered man with chops and glasses walked up to him. Mason nodded and the man smiled politely.

"Say, if you guys are running low on anything I have a 9mm on me." He looked cautiously over each shoulder. "No one else knows I have it." While he was very calm and intelligent looking, Mason raised his eye brows.

"Why doesn't anyone know you have it?" Mason tipped his head and crossed his arms. It seemed a little fishy that someone would keep that a secret.

"Well then everyone would want it!" The guy said as if dumbfounded by Mason's question. "Everyone would think they were more qualified than me to have it on them. While I'd never give it to them, I'd still have to listen to an uncountable amount of reasons come from a bunch of guys who could talk the ears off a jack-rabbit… and I just don't need that." He exaggerated a shrug and Mason let out a hard, wheezy laugh.

"Well dude," Mason shook his head," We've got several guns and about a thousand rounds of ammo or more. You can keep your pistol. I don't think we'll need it."

"Well," The guy said thoughtfully, "Got any long-guns to spare? I see you have your Colt Commando with the ten inch barrel and your friend has a Benelli Super Black Eagle and an H and K UMP 40. Have anything else like that?"

"Gun guy?" Mason took a step back; half surprised and half excited. The guy just nodded.

"Absolutely. My view is that if you know how many you have then you don't have enough."

"Fucking right dude!" Mason shook the guy's hand firmly as he nodded confidently. "What's your name man?"

"Aaron Riesen." Aaron shook back just as firmly.

"I'm Mason Krauss, that's Tyler Thompson." Mason motioned to Tyler who was talking to the guy they'd named Rick Morannis. "We're the fucking Cowboys from hell."

"I too would like to be a Cowboy from hell." Aaron grunted. "That would go good on a résumé."

"Fuck yeah man," Mason turned back toward the door, "Come on and we'll get you saddled up."

When Mason and Aaron left the room, Tyler turned his attention to Lance. He walked up to him and put his hands casually in his pockets.

"So Lance, where's this Tom Lund? I figured he'd be the guy to meet us at the door." Tyler knew the answer when he saw the disappointed look in Lance's eyes.

"He thought you guys would be here right away. When you didn't show up for a while, he said we needed to go out and get supplies ourselves or we'd pay the price when we were too weak to move. I told him no. I said we should give you some more time, but he wouldn't listen. He went out on his own. He wouldn't even take a gun. We haven't heard from him since."

"That's kind of like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute and expecting it to be an adventure." Tyler sighed. "We kind of got cornered out there." He shook his head. "I didn't think we were going to make it for a minute, but then we hit the jackpot with a bunch of guns and came back with that truck." Tyler looked around the crowd of people who looked brighter and more confident after their food. "After seeing everyone, I'm really glad we came."

"I'm glad you came too man." Lance agreed; taking a drink of water. "I'm down to under one magazine and I haven't slept in two days. I don't think I could have pulled another 24 hours."

"Here," Tyler handed Lance another magazine for his Glock 17, "I've got five more fully-loaded." Lance nodded and took them as Tyler wrinkled his eye brows. "You know, I figured the National Guard would be out shooting at us right away. Where the hell are they?" Tyler looked at Lance and Lance shrugged.

"We heard a big gun-battle yesterday and since then it's been quiet. Every once in a while there's a gun-shot or two, but its nothing like before. We haven't heard their helicopter either. Its like they just disappeared. The only reason that's weird is that before they just rolled around the streets shooting their machineguns at everything, then they'd drive off and come back later. I don't know where the hell they are."

"Weird." Tyler said flatly. "Good, but weird. I hope they don't come back."

In the hall, Mason was letting Aaron go through the guns. He'd picked up the M-4 with the Master-key almost immediately; ignoring the Hunting rifle and the UMP-40 left over. He looked at Mason.

"How much ammo do you have for this?" Aaron set it down and as Mason grinned, he put a dip of Copenhagen in his lip.

"Not enough." Mason shrugged. "If we split it in half we'll have six and a half magazines each, or one of us will have six and one will have seven. Pretty good I guess if you can keep it off of full-auto fire. It's 195 kills if you're good."

"I don't know if I'll be able to help myself." Aaron chuckled; looking over the shotgun attached to the under-barrel of the M-4.

"I know the feeling." Mason grinned. "I kind of wasted some ammo a couple blocks from here about a half-hour ago. I needed to blow off some steam though."

"Yeah," Aaron beamed, "I like the Church Key. Makes it pretty flashy." He looked at Mason who had raised an eye brow in confusion.

"Church Key? You mean the Master Key?" Mason chuckled as Aaron nodded.

"Yeah, I know its called that, but I like to give everything a name… that's wrong. Like when I'm lifting weights and I do Skull-Crushers… I call em' bone mashers."

"Fucking aye," Mason shook his head; laughing, "All right man." He looked at the Master Key and raised his eye brows. "Oh yeah, you'll have to get shotgun ammo from Tyler. He's got it all on him. Don't let him try to scare you off."

"Oh, I wont." Aaron said politely. "If he's a d-bag I can get along without it."

"Mr. Krauss-" Lance said as he walked up with Tyler.

"Just call me Mason." Mason shrugged. "It's easier."

"Ok," Lance nodded, "I forgot to tell you right away, but we got a call on the radio while we were waiting for you. It was from the woman you left at the farm. She said to let you know she was leaving."

"What!?" Mason's jaw dropped open as he looked at Tyler; shocked and worried. "How long ago?"

"Over an hour." Lance shook his head. "I tried to reason with her, but she sounds like a very stubborn woman. She didn't want to hear any of it."

"Fuck!" Mason turned toward the LMV. He didn't know what to do. He had no idea where she was going. He turned back to Lance. "Did she say what vehicle she was taking? Fuck, none of them have fuel. SHIT!" Mason sat down on the bumper of the LMV and slouched. She'd never make it alone. Not with a Glock and two and a half mags. "Son of a bitch." He croaked. They never should have left her.

"She said she can shoot man." Tyler said reassuringly; trying to keep Mason optimistic. "Maybe she'll be ok."

"Yeah." Mason said unenthusiastically. "I don't think we'll ever know." He took a deep breath and grunted; forcing visions of her being devoured out of his mind. "Well if she gets into a bind she'll probably head back to the farm. We just have to hope for that." He let a trickle of optimism overtake his senses. He didn't want to believe she'd die.

"Just don't dwell on it." Tyler patted Mason on the shoulder. "Keep to the task at hand."

Mason jumped off the bumper and walked away. Tyler just shook his head sadly. He didn't blame Mason for being upset. He'd kind of hit it off with Aya and that was something Tyler had never seen happen before. It was more than a hit at his pride though. It was a hit at his heart. Through all of the carnage Mason had felt something good. Tyler just sighed and looked at the floor. It was like what he'd felt when he'd seen all of the innocent faces in the lunch-room. It was a feeling of doing something that was right.

"Hey, Mason said you had some extra shotgun shells." Aaron broke Tyler's train of thought and he looked up from the floor.

"Yeah, I can cover you dude." Tyler began handing Aaron loose shotgun shells from his Tac-Vest's pockets until all he had left was what was in his gun and what was in the bandoleer.

"Thanks." Aaron said politely and put the last few into the pocket of the green vest he was wearing. He was about to walk away when Tyler stopped him.

"So what's your story?" Tyler cleared his throat; looking up at Aaron.

"Oh," Aaron shrugged and sat down again, "just unprepared I guess. I usually have a gun or two in my car and I have tons of guns at my house… my last count is thirty-three I think- at least for handguns. I have about half as many rifles and probably twenty-thousand rounds of ammunition. Bad time to be on vacation." Aaron grunted and set his S&W 5906 into the rear-hatch of the LMV. Tyler eyed it and nodded.

"Yeah, no shit dude. Where you from?" It felt good to be in a conversation about nothing important. He hadn't really had one of those since the whole dead-people thing had started. It was a trickle of normalcy. It made him feel like he'd have to do homework soon.

"New Folden, Minnesota." Aaron sighed. "Far, far north near the-"

"N-O shit?!" Tyler gasped; amazed. "I'm from Hallock." New Folden was approximately fifty-five miles southeast of Hallock. Tyler had be en there many times and was familiar with its lay out. His High School football team had squashed them countless times.

"Wow, really?" Aaron laughed; just as shocked. "It's a pretty small world. It's funny how often that happens. I usually make it awkward somehow though cause its usually someone I'm not really at level-5 with." Aaron did his exaggerated shrug again and chirped out a grunt in a really high tone of voice. Tyler nodded and yawned.

"No guns in your car then?" Tyler crossed his legs and looked down the hall where Mason was sitting at the Nurse's station.

"Nothing with ammo." Aaron shook his head. "There's a Yugoslavian M-76 with a range-finding scope in the trunk, but its in 7.92 and you don't just find that ammo lying around."

"Right." Tyler said passively. He didn't really know that much about bullets or what was common. He just let Mason figure all of that out. "So before all this shit started, did you see any gun stores around town?"

"Well, I saw a Pawn and Gun store down-town, but it's a ways off. I hear there's a good hunting store in town though and I was going to go check it out when all the shit hit the fan, but then I got side-tracked before I got the chance. I'm afraid I don't know the address."

"Fuck." Tyler shook his head. Why couldn't anything be easy? Every single step seemed to have a blunderbuss of issues that came a long with it. While it was annoying and all, he was kind of getting used to it.

"I know." Aaron agreed passively. "It's gayer than semen-flavored toothpaste."

"O-H," Tyler covered his mouth as he groaned in disgust, "Dude, that's fucking gross! Don't ever say that again! Bad, Bad!" Aaron just laughed.

"Ok, sorry, that one's on the "banned" list."

"Ugh," Tyler wrinkled his nose and shook his head, "Yeah, that's not something to go saying all the time. Ish."

"I hear it's the new "Crest" in San Francisco though."

"Ahhhh!" Tyler jumped up from the bumper and walked quickly away as Aaron laughed behind him. He walked straight ahead to the Nurse's Station and sat down in an office-chair next to Mason.

"I can't believe she left." Mason said sadly in a near-whisper. "If we'd just trusted her enough to take her along, then this wouldn't have happened." He looked at Tyler with tired, desperate eyes.

"You never know dude." Tyler shrugged; knowing just as well as Mason that she stood a very small chance of survival. "Women are tricky like that. They like to make it look like they're all weak and incapable, but then they're pushed and they surprise you with their drive." His ex, Angie, was like that. She'd just use her brain and figure out what she had to do under the given circumstances. Tyler pointed at Mason's vest. "Have a smoke. You'll feel better."

Mason nodded and put a Lucky-Strike into his lips. He lit the end, then offered Tyler the pack. Tyler shook his head; no.

"Nah, death is close enough." Tyler cleared his throat and spit a loogie onto the concrete wall beside them. "Are you going to be able to function? You have to be able to function dude."

"Yeah, yeah I know." Mason nodded; understanding Tyler's concern. Falling under the stress could have dire consequences and could easily result in the death of himself or the people he'd come to save. He didn't want that on his soul. "Yeah, I'm good to go." Mason stood up and looked over the desk as Aaron walked up.

"I see you guys have some Tactical Vests in the back of the truck. Mind if I slip one on?"

"Go ahead man." Mason waved his hand passively. "We're not going to wear more than one at a time; minus well use them." Aaron nodded and walked back to the LMV. "Its nice that the LMV fits right into the hall." Mason took a drag of his smoke.

"Yeah," Tyler agreed, "its heavy enough than they can't push it out of the way too. I wonder how that front door is holding up though." They could see the dead through the windows of the LMV at the end of the hall. They seemed to have formed into a horde; fighting to get inside where they'd seen the two heavily-armed vigilantes go. The LMV was rocking slightly, but it stayed put.

"We're not going to be able to move the truck." Mason grumbled. "We'll have to leave the building some other way and clear up a good portion of them." Mason raised an eye brow and began searching each accessible hall.

"What are you looking for?" Tyler stood and began looking where Mason was looking. "What's wrong?" He didn't see anything of interest; at least nothing that stuck out.

"Elevators." Mason said in almost a whisper. If they could get to a different level and to a room with a better view, they could pick the corpses off carefully; making it possible to move the truck and eventually escape. It had its risks though. Even if they did make it to another floor, there was no telling how many access points there were from the unsecured areas of the ground-floor. The other floors could be crawling with the dead.

"You looking to go upstairs?" Tyler leaned over the Nurse's desk and looked down the cordoned hall. There were no elevators before the barricaded doors, and none in the opposite hall. The only possibility seemed to be opening the doors again and that could mean letting dozens of the infected into the safe-area. "Doesn't look good man." Tyler shook his head; looking at Mason. Mason just shrugged.

"I know, but we don't have much of a choice." He nodded toward the LMV. "Look at them all out there. They know we're in here and they're not moving. I don't know if we can do anything else."

Mason looked away from Tyler as the teenage couple from the lunch-room walked up. The boy looked impatient and anxious. He glanced at the LMV, then at Tyler and Mason; nodding his head in its direction.

"Hey, can I take your truck?" His tone was serious and both Tyler and Mason's face twisted into humored grins.

"Well, can I take your girlfriend?" Mason snickered. "You're about as likely to say yes to that as I am to your request."

"Yes," The boy turned to his girlfriend and shrugged, "You said we should stay Liz. If you want to stay and die, you can. I'm going to fucking bounce." He reached out his hand to Tyler. "Got the keys?" Tyler frowned and Mason's face became shocked, and then offended.

"You're going to leave your fucking girlfriend- and your kid, then take my truck and drive off into the sunset?" Mason stepped up to the kid and looked into his eyes. "What do you do?"

"What? Nothing." The kid shrugged. "I'm graduating this year. I play fucking basketball, I dunno." He looked at Mason like he was stupid. "Give me the fucking keys man, or I'll kick your fucking ass." As Tyler laughed, completely shocked, at the kid's threat, Mason was un-slinging his gun and setting it on the desk-top. The kid's girlfriend was begging him to stop and Mason grinned.

"You got balls man, but you're about to get fucked up." Mason clenched his fists. "You really want to get fucked up?"

"I'll fuck _you_ up man." The kid said in a low, almost under-the-breath voice. Tyler continued to smirk and Mason laughed sarcastically.

"Man, you better back the fuck up cause this shit's about to get real." Mason put his hand against the kid's chest and shoved him back a step. "And I don't want to excite your girlfriend." The kid clenched his teeth, looked at Tyler, then stormed off back to the lunch-room. Mason watched him disappear, then looked at Liz who had a tear running down her cheek.

"Wow, your boyfriend is a fucking idiot." Tyler said; very straight-forward. He nodded for his own benefit and the girl laughed hesitantly. She dried the tears from her eyes as Mason watched the lunch-room door carefully.

"He's scared." Liz shook her head; readjusting her infant in her arm. "He thinks we should just drive until we can't anymore. He says we're just waiting here to die."

"Man, I'm stupid." Mason said suddenly; changing the subject completely. He glanced at Liz, "Hold that thought." He looked around for a moment then walked over to the bathroom that was by the Lunch-room and opened the door. On the inside of the door, there was a map. Mason smacked it with the back of his hand and looked at Tyler, who was just as surprised as Liz. "Map of the kingdom man." He turned back to the map and began to study it as Tyler walked up to him.

"Where's the elevator at? Or the stairs?" Tyler watched quietly as Mason looked carefully. He put his finger against the map and grunted.

"End of the hall, opposite side of those locked doors." Mason pointed to the barricaded hallway. "There's a stairway right by it, so we'd probably just use those."

"Well I don't want to go through those fucking doors." Tyler stated abruptly. "I want to stay right the fuck in here until they go away." He growled under his breath and crossed his arms like he was pouting. He didn't feel the need to gamble. Not yet. They weren't in dire need of taking any risks. If they were under worse circumstances, he may have changed his mind. That wasn't the case though, and until that point then he wasn't going to go. It was that simple.

"Dude, you don't have to fucking go." Mason shrugged. "It'd be nice to have a guy down here who can hold his own anyway. I'll go and I'll take Aaron or Lance with me. Two guys can handle this; no problem. You hold the fort, I'll go knock down some pawns. You dig?"

"Fuck," Tyler groaned; turning away as he stressfully rubbed his face, "Dude, I don't want you to go. I don't want either of us to go. I just want to be safe for five fucking minutes before we decide to let a bunch of face-hungry assholes try to eat us! Do YOU dig?" He shook his head; concerned. "We can't even talk to each other when you're up there. I'd have no idea if you guys were dead. This seems like a lose-fucking-lose situation." He walked a few steps away then turned around. "You don't even know if Lance or Aaron would agree to go with you. You're playing this like you have infinite-fucking control again man. You've got to fucking stop that!" Mason took that to heart. He stopped, looked at Tyler, then drooped his shoulders. He looked at the ground and nodded.

"Sorry man. I'm trying too fucking hard to jump-start everything." Mason looked over at the Nurse's station and sighed. "I'll sit down and think of it all for a while. If I come to any other conclusions I'll let you know." He put another smoke in his mouth and wrinkled his nose. "My bad man." He shook Tyler's hand and Tyler raised his eye brows.

"Just don't do it again." As Tyler let out a deep breath, Liz walked up. She looked at her baby, then at Tyler.

"Are we going to get out of here?" Liz's voice was sincere and scared. Her eyes burned into Tyler's and Tyler nodded; breaking eye contact uncomfortably.

"Yeah." Tyler said confidently. On the inside he wasn't so sure. "We've been in worse situations with less people, and less guns. If we all work together, and no one's an ass-fuck, then we'll get out of this no problem." He motioned to Mason. "And we got him. If it all goes to hell, we'll just let him loose." Mason grinned as Tyler smirked. "Don't worry yourself. Leave that to us." Tyler did his best to blow her off. He didn't feel like mingling.

"All right." Liz nodded. She was used to taking charge in everything from money to parenthood. Her boyfriend, Chase, hadn't left her with much choice. Neither had her separated parents. She wasn't accustomed to someone else leading the way. She wasn't a soldier, or a cop though. The man standing before her looked to be a mixture of both. His confident eyes let her worries be swept away. "Just don't keep me out of the loop." She looked at her baby boy and then kissed him on the forehead. "I deserve to know what's happening."

"Right." Tyler nodded. "Just stay calm and everything will be ok." Tyler watched her as she walked into the lunch room and Mason grinned.

"Somebody likes you." Mason snickered; crossing his arms. Tyler rolled his eyes.

"She's just an independent woman. She wants to know what's going on so she can give her bit of input."

"Yeah." Mason nodded; seriously. "Just your fucking type."

"Whatever man." Tyler shrugged passively. "I'm going to go eat something. You?"

"Yeah." Mason fiddled with the USP in his leg holster. "Guess I could eat a little."

"All right." Tyler looked at Mason's cigarette. "I guess I could maybe use one of those." Mason handed him one and lit the end. He put the lighter in his pocket and Tyler cleared his throat. "All right, let's go."

Tyler and Mason went into the Lunch-room expecting to be outcasts from the group of survivors who had already made friends with one another. To their surprise, the survivor's were more than happy to invite outsiders into their lonesome little groups; desperate to hear news about the outside and be among those who held the chance of survival within their grasp.

Tyler and Mason sat separately. They were two very different people attracted to very different personality types. While Tyler drew himself close to the older group of teenagers and loners who had found their way to the hospital, Mason dug in deep to the people who had come with family members or friends. They both had their preferences. While being very much different, their hunger for comfort and company were very much the same, and very desperate.

"So Lance," Tyler cleared his throat and sat up in straight his folding chair, "How the hell did you all get here? Were you here in the first place?"

"Nah," Lance shook his head; habitually checking the door to the room, "I was helping the Bus-Service bring people to the High School; providing security with my Partner, Chris Collingwood. That's where the National Guard had re-positioned their base to. We were out on a run, and I got a call saying the Soldiers were killing everyone who had come to the school." Lance let out a sigh and shook his head sadly. "I had the driver come to the Hospital. I figured we could do something here, but we were out of options. We ended up in a crash with another driver and had to finish the route on foot. My partner was killed on the way along with about ten other people. I couldn't do nothing to stop it."

Tyler patted Lance on the back. He didn't really know what to say to make the man feel better. He'd done a lot to save the people he was with though. That much was obvious. If he'd just taken off, who knew where these people might be? There were no "For-sure's" anymore.

"You did good." Tyler said supportively; motioning to all the people. "Look at them all. Without you… who knows?"

"Yeah." Lance said hesitantly. "Yeah, I know. I just wish I knew where _my_ family was man." He stared down at the table as Tyler agreed.

"I know dude… me too." Tyler looked over at Mason. He was talking to the little girl who had been asking him questions earlier. Tyler wished he was as confident as Mason about the status of his family. If only. He knew his dad was able to make good off-hand decisions. He knew his dad could get himself out of any rut too. But what about the kinds of ruts Tyler was in himself? It was hard to say. He hoped to God that by some miracle he'd run into them. As long as they stayed rural and close to home, he knew he had a shot.

"Hey." Tyler's eyes came up from the table at the sound of Liz's voice. He looked at her face and nodded.

"Hey." Tyler said dryly. He didn't know why she'd come and sat by him, but he really didn't mind; regardless of what his sarcastic-senses were telling him.

"You look like your having a rough time," Liz said through a half-smile, "are you ok?" She eyed him closely; truly caring with her soft motherly voice.

"No." Tyler said through a deep breath. "Worrying about my family. It's kind of rough." He looked into her eyes. "You know?" She was very pretty. He had a hard time not thinking of her in a sexual way; as usual. It was funny how that worked. Even under intense and terrifying circumstances, the male mind-set wanted sex. He wished she would be a bitch so he could blow her off and not care, but she wasn't looking to play that card.

"Yeah, I know." Liz agreed; looking away. "I have no idea where anyone in my family is, but I'm ok and Carter is ok, so I guess everything will be all right as long as I look at the bright side." She looked at her son and smiled.

"How old were you when you got pregnant?" Tyler asked curiously. "I mean, you really don't look like you ever had kids at all." He wasn't kidding. She was as in-shape as you could expect anyone to be after they had a kid. There were no obvious cow-flaps at all.

"I was eighteen." Liz shrugged. "I have no idea… why I was so stupid," She looked at Carter and smiled again, "but I'm not mad. I really love my son and I wouldn't give him up for the world." Tyler raised his eye brows impartially; letting his sarcastic side take over for a moment.

"Well I'd never want a kid," Tyler shrugged, "If it kept me up all night when I had to work the next day, I'd probably throw it in the fireplace." Liz let her jaw drop open, but she wasn't mad. She had a look of surprised shock on her face with a partial smile.

"That's terrible," Liz shook her head, "But you're just saying that because you want to believe that you can't love something." She tipped her head. "I know a lot of guys like that. They've been burnt before, then they become heartless, or what they believe is heartless. They play it off that way, then someday they just let it go. And then they're happy."

"Whatever." Tyler said as impartially as ever. "I just don't want any part of it."

"That's what you say now." Liz said confidently. "But no man is a man if he doesn't have something to protect that's a part of him." With that, she got up and walked back to Chase. Tyler watched her. He didn't want to agree with what she'd said, but he knew she was right. What in life was worth fighting for without love? He didn't know. He'd let himself figure it out as needed. He looked back at Mason. He was still talking to that little girl, laughing and making her laugh. He wondered what that was like. He told people that he hated kids, but did he? He really wanted to believe it because that was sick as shit and he liked sick as shit. But what if he ignored that for a day? He grunted as he thought of it. He hated life's puzzles.

Tyler walked up to Mason's side; cutting Mason off from the story he was telling the little girl and grabbing everyone's attention.

"Come up with anything yet?" Tyler asked Mason seriously. Mason excused himself politely from the table and stepped up next to Tyler; habitually checking his USP again.

"Quite honestly man, we're down to two options. We can wait for them to disperse, which may never happen, or we can pull this rooftop shit. I can do this man. Aaron already agreed to it." Tyler took a deep breath and looked at all the people. He knew he wanted everyone in the room to live, other than that Chase kid, but they had no answer as far as how to transport them.

Tyler looked at the floor and shook his head. He didn't want to take these people on a suicide mission, and he didn't want Mason going into a suicide mission just so that more corpses could move in and replace the others. They needed more of a concrete plan before the mission could carry on. But what could they do?

"Dude, we have no fucking way to get these people out of here." Tyler said pessimistically. "If we clear the way for a moment, what the fuck is that going to accomplish? It's just going to waste ammo." Mason just grinned at his worries. Tyler knew he had an answer.

"Don't worry man. Listen, Aaron and I will go upstairs and use what we've got to move those fuckers out of there. I'll take the Remington and a UMP 40, and Aaron will take a UMP 40. We'll pop enough of them off, so you can move out and then," Mason rubbed his hands together excitedly, "You and Lance take off toward the High School."

"Hold on." Tyler stopped Mason abruptly. "The National Guard supposedly made their base there. Are you aware of that little tid-bit?" Tyler wasn't fond of the plan so far. The National Guard wasn't something he was Grade-A fucking-excited about meeting.

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "but they haven't heard, or seen the Guard since yesterday. That means they're either under-gunned, or fucking gone. SO, it's perfect man." Mason chuckled and nodded. "So that's that dude."

"Hold on." Tyler stopped him unenthusiastically. "You haven't even told me why we're going there yet." Tyler scowled when Mason's face lit up.

"Oh, yeah! There are fucking School-Buses there man. Go fucking grab one and swing back here. Its fucking ingenious! Those fuckers can't stop a fucking school bus!" He snickered as Tyler took a deep breath.

"Well, that's true." Tyler pointed an accusing finger at Mason. "But I'm the one who has to leave the fucking building man!" Mason put his hands up in defense; nodding at the factuality of the statement.

"True, but I'm the one going out the door first, and I'm the guy whose going to have to stay in an unsecured location until you get back." Mason scratched his head and took a deep breath. "We're both hitting the shit hard here man, but we can fucking do this if we take it slow." Mason pulled Tyler's original hand-sketched map out of his pocket. "I had you put the High-School on this; remember?" He grinned and shrugged. "I know for a fact that they often station National-Guardsmen in Schools and shit during Natural Disasters, so I figured why not? Well here it is." Mason handed it to Tyler. "If you want a rest right now, then take it. We're waiting on your word Boss."

"Dude…" Tyler trailed off, "Its more complicated than that. We have no supplies at the farm. We have no room for them at the farm. If this whole Bus-Plan has a single hitch, then we might be fucked." He crossed his arms and stared at the wall for a moment. "It takes a lot to feed and support over thirty people; especially kids. We need more water, more fuel, more bullets, more food, more houses." He shrugged; giving up. "I just don't fucking know how we can do it."

"Well we better fucking figure something out," Mason put his hands in his pockets, "because I honestly hate being fucking surrounded by those things. And I want to get the hell out of dodge before I end up having to blow all my ammo when those fuckers manage to bust in."

"Yeah, I know." Tyler agreed. "But there's got to be a less risky way." He sighed and looked toward the hall. "I'm going to go play on the radio for a while; let my mind free."

"All right." Mason nodded. "I'll keep talking to the guys and maybe we can come up with something else."

"Ok." Tyler waved an arm passively. He didn't want to think about it for one second. He knew there was no quick fix, but doing no fix at all would only end in disaster. He walked to the Nurse's station and sat down behind the desk; noting how eerie it was to be away from the rest of the group. He felt like a corpse would pop out of nowhere any moment and take a big bite out of his face. He shivered and took the CB off of its receiver.

"Hello, this is Tyler Thompson. Is anyone out there? Over." He traced his pointer finger in circles dully on the desk as he waited, then tried again. "This is Tyler Thompson. I am stranded with approximately thirty other people and am in dire need of food, water, and supplies. If anyone is out there, please respond. Over." Tyler waited for a moment, then shook his head desperately. He looked up as Mason walked out of the lunch-room with a smug look on his face.

"Anybody out there?" Mason crossed his arms with the Commando hanging at his side. He didn't expect too many voices to pop out of the little back box. They'd played the "radio game" earlier and all they'd received was a call for help. Mason knew they were in the sand-box and there was no easy way out.

"What do you think?" Tyler put his face into his hands tiredly and let out a sigh. Mason patted him on the shoulder and looked down the hall to where the LMV's rear-end was sitting. The corpses visible through the front window seemed to be only growing in numbers. The stench was as bad as the sight.

"We need to do something before we end up in a stale-mate. If too many more of them flood the front of the building, we're going to be stuck here for good." Mason looked down at Tyler and raised his eye brows. "I think we need rest, but we need to move before it gets much worse."

Tyler ran his hand through his hair and looked at Mason dully. He was right.


	10. The Violence of Vigiliantes

Chapter 10

In a nutshell

"We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do." -George S. Patton Jr.

"Ok, so in a nutshell we're all going to get trapped in here and starved out into the open if we don't make a move." Mason took a deep breath as he stared down the hall toward the LMV. "I don't know if you guys know this, but they're aiming to eat you and I'm pretty sure that having bites taken out of you when you're still alive isn't exactly "Super bowl Party fun." Are you getting that? If we don't break through this pack and do something about our situation, we're going to end up FUCKED!" Mason turned away from the group of men gathered at the Nurses Station and crossed his arms.

"We have to use your plan." Tyler shrugged; looking at the back of Mason's head. "Unless there's a bus-station closer." Tyler looked at Lance and Lance just shook his head.

"Basically all of the buses were being used as transports. I'd say most of them are parked out by the school since the Guard probably wasted them on sight. Otherwise, they're probably ditched randomly throughout the city. I can't say anything for certain. And the bus-station is farther down-town; pretty much cut-off. There are so many barricades in that area that I doubt you could even drive through without a dozer. The path to the school is littered with barricades too, but they aren't as clustered as the ones down-town. That's the best bet." Lance shrugged and shook his head depressingly. "That's my two-cents man."

"Okay," Mason huffed, "well that's that then. The shit-kicker is going to be driving through these fuckers. I don't know how much towing-power that LMV has, but running down a couple hundred of those assholes massed into a compact group can't be good for any vehicle."

"There's an emergency exit and the end of that hall." Lance pointed to the end of the hall with the opened door. "Its blocked by some stuff, but I don't think there's a lot of them trying to get in there. The wire-mesh-lined window was covered by a piece of card-board so they couldn't see in. You might be able to slip out that way and see if you can get them to move. I don't know."

"Nice." Mason nodded. "Lance, you're a God amongst men." Mason looked at Tyler. "We can pull what we pulled on the roof-top earlier; play them a little bit then let em' fuck off." Mason pointed at Tyler's tac-vest. "We don't have fucking time to talk about this. Give me your grenades." Tyler gave Mason his three grenades and Mason looked down the hall at the barricaded emergency-exit.

"All right," Mason took a deep breath, "Lance, you stay here and control the masses. Take the Mossberg and some ammo from Thompson." He pointed at Tyler. "Once they start moving, run them down man. It shouldn't take long if I start tossing grenades and shooting my gun off. Then spin by and pick me up. I'll stick close to that end of the building unless they chase me off and to be honest I'm not real worried about that."

"Right." Tyler said firmly with a nod. His balls were in his stomach.

"Ok." Mason huffed; looking at Aaron. "Wanna help me move that shit away from the door Aaron?"

Aaron and Mason darted down the equipment littered hall to the emergency exit and immediately they began pulling apart the haphazard barricade. It didn't sound like the door was being pounded on, but Mason wasn't going to be optimistic. He remembered the lessons learned so far. Look at the bright side, and the dark side would eat your liver.

They pushed away the last piece of Machinery and Mason took a deep breath. He looked at Aaron and shrugged. "Go hop in with Tyler, man. I got this." Aaron nodded and took off down the other end of the hall. This was going to be a shit-storm and a half. He lifted the piece of cardboard and grunted happily.

The area wasn't clear, but there were only nine or ten close enough to be trouble. Had he only had a pistol he'd be a slight more worried. That wasn't the case though. He clicked the Aimpoint scope to the "on" position and hastily put a Lucky-Strike into his mouth. He could feel his knees shaking and that weird sense of loss-of-control that adrenaline gives a person in the face of injury or death. He clenched his teeth and grabbed the knob. Time to go.

Mason shoved the door open and stepped into the court-yard. He barely took a step before firing a round through the side of a corpse's head. It was all reflex from there. The gun seemed to almost bounce from target to target. He squeezed the trigger quickly; making sure he was aware of his surroundings during each engagement as to not be surprised from the left and right. He emptied twelve rounds through the action of the rifle before running to the left; avoiding the many that were wandering toward him now. He had to get to the front of the building.

Mason sprinted toward the road and came to a halt when he jumped off of the sidewalk. It seemed his muzzle blasts and gotten the attention of some of them. A part of the group that had massed in front of the LMV was coming in his direction. He pulled a grenade out of his vest and pulled the pin with his teeth.

"Here goes nothing!" Mason yelled and tossed it with all of his might. The grenade flew through the air and landed about fifteen yards from the group that had splintered away. It sat there for a moment, then exploded; causing Mason to wince and his ears to ring. The results spoke for themselves. Several of the corpses had body parts missing. Arms and legs and been shattered. Those that had been closest were worse. They were lying further away then they had been; motionless as expected.

Mason was surprised when the rest of the group didn't move. He glanced around cautiously as he switched the fire-control lever to "full auto" and held the barrel in the air. He squeezed the trigger, letting ten or so rounds discharge, then let a roar escape his lungs. To his satisfaction, many more of the group turned away from the LMV and began walking in his direction. As much as it was going according to plan, Mason couldn't help but be a little bothered by the result. He'd just have to hope the guys inside would get to him before the masses did.

"Let's hit it!" Tyler shifted the LMV to "drive" and hit the accelerator. The corpses in front of him weren't expecting it. They were either crushed beneath the tires, or knocked out of the way as the vehicle's enormous weight tore-off through them. In a moment, they were clear and Aaron pointed at Mason excitedly.

"He's still in the open!" Aaron chirped. Tyler picked up the LMV's speed, running down a few more wandering bodies, and rolled to a stop as Mason ran up to the vehicle's side. He hopped into the back seat and let out a sigh and Tyler pulled off again.

"Not a bad result huh?" Mason said through a gasping breath. "That was a fucking rush." He grinned as he leaned back and Aaron snickered.

"Yeah, we should go to the bar and get whiskey-drunk now." Aaron said in a mock-Indian accent. "That would probably make everything go a little easier." He laughed loudly as Mason gave him the thumbs up.

"Ish." Tyler spat; shaking his head. "I'll stick with the Seagram's." He made an evil-grin and pounded his fist on the steering wheel. "Next thing you know I'll be drinking Black Velvet and Hamm's." His sarcastic tone made Mason sit up straight in his seat.

"Oh, fuck you!" Mason gave him the middle finger; knowing Tyler was talking about him. "They're cheap and they taste fine. Sorry for being budget-oriented."

"Too bad they don't have a brothel around here." Aaron said in a serious tone; breaking up Mason and Tyler's argument. "I could go for some strippers, even if they're the dead-kind."

"I don't know man." Tyler groaned. "I've been to the Northern in Fargo before and I like them too. I just think that by now they might be a little gamy." He let out a sick laugh as Aaron's face twisted slightly in disgust and he began to laugh too.

"That's gross guys." Mason said flatly. "I wouldn't want thick, mucus colored pussy-juice dripping onto my clothes. That's just me though." Tyler and Aaron both looked at him with perturbed faces and then Mason burst out laughing too. "Ugh, why is that funny now?" Mason shivered and Tyler shook his head.

"Yeah," Tyler grunted, "that's pretty fucked up dude."

The conversation died down as Tyler began to focus his attention on driving. He hadn't really realized the devastation in the city until now when even more businesses and intersections came into view. He couldn't believe the amounts of crashed or abandoned vehicles. The broken out windows of almost every business added flavor. Everything from second-hand stores to electronics stores seemed to have been raped in some way or another. Products and supplies were strewn all the way from the shattered doors to the middle of the streets. It didn't make sense. Why would anyone bother to steal a DVD-player in the middle of what was going on?

Street after street it was the same thing. On the Main Avenue it was the worst. There were long lines of abandoned cars left at the deserted police-barricade that was in place. It seemed so sad and desolate that Mason almost felt tears form in his eyes. Aaron and Tyler were feeling the same. Tyler ignored it and Aaron looked shyly away. Where all those people had gone was obvious. They'd been the ones chasing Mason and Tyler up and down the streets and keeping Aaron and the others trapped inside the Hospital. It was the horseshit result of trying to control the outbreak. As an exciting side-effect, all those dead bodies had been scattered throughout the city, making it a no-man's land. It was funny how that worked. Every time a Government tried to make a bad situation better, it ended up fucking it up worse. This time it had resulted in the deaths of millions of people.

Tyler's eyes scanned as he weaved the LMV in between vehicle after vehicle. A few times now he'd had to slowly push one out of the way with the nose of the truck. It was enough to trigger claustrophobia; with a vehicle every few feet. It was like a big, rainbow-colored wall.

"How far was the School from the Hospital?" Tyler asked curiously; looking at Mason in the rear-view.

"About four or five miles." Mason stared at Tyler's hand-drawn map. "It's in a housing-neighborhood, so I don't know how congested it will be, but we should expect it to be bad. We should have enough cover in case the Guard is on their toes though. Just move slow once we're close and we'll dispatch on foot so we can get a good look without the engine-noise. If it looks abandoned we'll just move in, do a sweep, then get the vehicles. If they have any munitions lying around, we should probably grab those too. I don't know about you, but a belt-fed sounds better than sex right now."

"Well I wouldn't go that far." Aaron interrupted. "If its sex with a girl that's anything, but white then I'll take that over the belt-fed." He shrugged, then began to laugh.

"Oh, I like them white." Mason smirked with a slow nod. "I like that butt flat like a pancake… like mom used to make." They both laughed even harder before Tyler broke in; irritated.

"Yeah, ok, just pay attention to the fucking-directions already!" Tyler shook his head and tightened his grip on the steering-wheel. "If I get shot I'm going to be so fucking pissed at you."

"Just drive man, just drive." Mason nodded to himself and the LMV rolled across the pavement.

After two more miles of weaving the LMV between scattered vehicles, the amount of apparent destruction seemed to die. If the men were to keep their eyes off of the abused houses, the road would have seemed peaceful, and ordinary. But the shattered windows and busted doors of suburban homes pulled their eyes from the gray pavement; reminding them with unwavering insistence that all was not well in Suburban Pembleton.

"About two more fucking blocks then bring the truck to a stop." Mason said flatly from the back seat; ashing his cigarette on the floor. Tyler kept the vehicle moving and after two blocks he did as Mason had instructed.

From his position, Mason scanned in every direction; noting the amount of corpses in sight. There weren't many. Apparently the hordes had been keeping themselves busy down-town.

"Ok," Mason grunted, "I'll go take a look at the school. It's only a few houses down. I'll make sure its not flooded with uniformed assholes then I'll pop back and let you know and we'll go from there. Ok?"

"Wait," Tyler stopped him and pointed at Aaron, "take him with you. I'll be fine in here. If they start turning into a fucking crust around me, I'll just pull a half a block away and keep running it like that."

Mason slapped Aaron on the shoulder excitedly and nodded. He really wouldn't mind having a little backup to watch his six. He waved his head in the direction of outside and looked at Tyler.

"Just keep it within this vicinity so we can find you if we have to bug out. Ok?" Mason stared at Tyler and Tyler nodded.

"Wait a minute," Aaron hesitated, "I was all excited about this at first, but now I'm about to shit my pants. I don't know if I can pull this off." He shrugged; and looked out the window. "I don't want to look like a pussy or anything, but I don't really feel like being a piece of pork-chop."

"Dude, just relax." Mason reassured him calmly. "It's you and me with plenty of ammo and a small number of these assholes. Just keep your adrenaline in check, stay close to me, and cover my six, and we'll be good to fucking go."

"Ok." Aaron nodded. "Just shoot me if I get bitten."

"That goes for all of us." Tyler said dryly. He was glad he got to stay in the LMV. At least he had a little cover.

"Yeah, just don't lose your head and take off running." Mason grinned. "We cool?"

"Yeah." Aaron tipped his head thoughtfully. "Cool with me."

"Ok then." Mason's hand went to the door-handle. "Let's do this El Capitan."

Both Aaron and Mason's feet hit the pavement at the same time and, as usual, they both took off in a dead run; moving to the right of the LMV and disappearing between two expensive-looking houses. As Mason felt the security of having cover around him, he slung his Commando over his chest and drew his USP. There weren't nearly enough corpses in the area to surround them in this environment. There was no need to waste ammo. Behind him, Aaron did the same. He drew his S&W 5906 and calmly moved forward; keeping an eye on both Mason and their surroundings.

A second later, They hopped a wooden fence and stopped. Mason looked at Aaron and motioned toward the visible street ahead of them.

"The school is across the street and to the right of us. You stay back here and keep on eye on our six. I'll creep up and take a look-see around." Aaron nodded and Mason moved toward the edge of the house.

Step by step, Mason imagined an M240B Medium Machinegun ripping him to shreds. He knew it was unlikely that anyone at the school could possibly know his position, but the images stuck. Machinegun fire was uncool when you were on the receiving.

Mason crept up to the edge of the Light-Green colored house and put his back against the siding. He took a deep breath, thanking the Lord for his time on Earth, and he peeked out.

Mason stared for a moment and sighed. There was nothing. Not a single moving thing on the School grounds or on the roof. But their guess had been right. Multiple buses and cars were parked outside with their windows shot out and countless bodies motionless inside of them. That wasn't the worst thing though. Hundreds of bodies were outside strewn across the courtyard and into the street. Men, women, and children lay lifeless; some in piles. Mason pulled his head back into cover and sank to the ground. He looked over at Aaron.

"Get back to the truck and tell Tyler to creep up and stop parallel to my position. I'll cover you boys as you roll up." As Mason turned back toward the school, Aaron nodded and took off in the direction they'd come from. He hopped over the fence and disappeared.

As Mason heard the LMV's engine approaching, he popped out from cover and brought the Commando's stock against his shoulder. He scanned patiently as the LMV rolled into his peripheral vision and eventually stopped directly across the street from him. As no fire came from the building, Mason sighed and sprinted across the lawn, across the street, and took cover behind the big, beautiful hunk of metal. He lit a cigarette as Aaron and Tyler both climbed out of Aaron's door. Mason nervously glanced around as his compatriots knelt beside him and he shrugged passively.

"We don't have a lot of choices here. We're going to move in hard and fast, but I don't want you guys just popping off at any old thing." Mason shifted uncomfortably and took a drag from his smoke. "I'll go in first with Aaron coming in right behind me." Aaron nodded, then Mason pointed at Tyler. "You open the door and let us roll in, then you come in behind. I want cover at eleven O'clock and one O'clock. I'll take point. We'll sweep one room at a time until we're clear. Once its done, we'll head over to the bus-shop, err, whatever and grab ourselves one of them big yellow ones. Ok?"

"Well," Tyler wrinkled an eye brow, "Why don't we just go to the bus-garage now? Apparently no one's looking."

"They might have guns in there." Aaron added quickly; his eyes shooting to a corpse that had wandered into the street a couple hundred yards away.

"Exactly." Mason nodded. "We have to check if there are any munitions lying around. We all know that we need anything and everything we can get our hands on. If we need to protect the farm for… forever then we'll need bullets." Mason sighed. "We're going to need a lot of shit actually, but we're going to have to deal with that later." He looked back at the School. "Let's do this shit so we can go back and get drunk."

"Alright…" Tyler sighed stressfully; eyeing the school nervously. "I hope you really know what you're doing Mason."

"Me too." Mason grunted. "Me, fucking, too."

They moved out in a fast, uniformed fashion. Mason and Aaron kept their guns shouldered as they moved, while Tyler kept his muzzle pointed at the ground; eyeing everything as if paranoid. He had a bad feeling. While every step felt like it might be his last, suddenly the side of the brick-building was right before him. The school was looking more-dead by the moment.

As agreed, Tyler put his hand on the door handle and looked at his Comrades. They both nodded, and it was fast-work from there. As the door swung open, Mason and Aaron charged in; weapons at the ready. Tyler followed quickly; his Benelli now aimed as well. He didn't want to get caught off guard.

To Mason's surprise, the room-clearing began smoothly. While Tyler and him entered rooms, Aaron stayed in the hall; keeping a bead on the areas where they hadn't been yet. Room by room they swept and minute by minute they came a step closer to both personal-assurance and doom.

"Clear." Mason stepped out of the last classroom before the School's hallway intersection and he hawked a loogie onto the floor. He put another cigarette in his mouth and lit it as Tyler and Aaron kept their sights on opposite parts of the very-open hall. Mason slowly scanned every direction and grunted.

"You guys cover the hall that goes right, then continue down the hall straight ahead." He looked to his right. There was an office area that ran alongside the short-hallway that branched off in the same direction. The lights were off, but sunlight was pouring in from the outside. "I'll clear the office, then come out and keep an eye on this staircase." He let out a drag of gray smoke. "I don't want anyone surprising us from the rear." He looked at his friends and they nodded in approval. Mason shrugged. "Stay frosty."

As Aaron and Tyler broke away, Mason turned his focus to the office. He hated schools. Back when he was in high school, he'd spent plenty of time in the office hearing about how poor his academic achievements were, and how poor his judgment-skills were in dealing with other students. He flicked his smoke onto the floor and spat a stream of spit. What a load of shit.

Mason stepped into the office and looked around. It was unreal. It almost seemed untouched. There weren't papers strewn around, or broken computers. There was no blood and no signs of struggle. He felt like he was back in ordinary-land just for a second. He let out a sigh and he walked around a few desks; eyeing everything casually. It was almost a surreal kind of trip down memory lane. He smiled to himself and looked straight ahead. There was a cramped hallway with an office on the left, then the hall split in two different directions. He sighed and moved forward. The whole "secure the area" thing was already getting a little old.

Mason had no intention of clearing every office inch by inch as he stepped passed the doorway on the left of the hall. All his plans went to shit though as he froze mid-step. A girl, maybe twenty-five was sitting in an office-chair taped and bound. She was naked and obviously battered. As Mason turned to her, a loud voice made him freeze in mind and body.

"Don't fucking move asshole!" The young voice shouted excitedly. Mason looked over his shoulder as he raised his hands into the air. A black man in an Army Combat Uniform had an M-4 with an Acog aimed at him. As Mason swore to himself, the soldier began speaking nervously into his radio.

"Twombly, get your guys down onto the main floor right the fuck now! We got a few inside!" The soldier swallowed hard and Mason rolled his eyes as another Soldier stepped up behind the first. The black soldier looked at his Team-Mate and nodded anxiously toward Mason. "Secure this mother- HOLD IT!" He screamed; looking passed Mason toward the main-doorway of the office. Mason looked over his other shoulder and let out a very nervous sigh. Aaron and Tyler were standing side-by-side aiming their weapons at the uniformed assholes.

"Drop it motherfuckers or he's fucking dead!" The black soldier screamed. He was trembling. Mason felt a bead of sweat run down his forehead.

"Fuck them guys!" Mason said loudly. "Just fucking shoot!"

"Shut the fuck up asshole!" The black soldier barked. "Just shut your fucking face!"

Mason looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with both Aaron and Tyler. He winked and they both swallowed hard.

Aaron felt his finger trembling on the trigger of his M-4. He'd shot guns thousands and thousands of times. He knew how they operated, and how to control them and he'd always done it with the mindset that he'd be able to deal with this kind of situation. Yet, he'd never known just how terrifying it would actually be. Having Mason wink at him in the middle of a hold up didn't help either. He wasn't anywhere near prepared for what happened next.

As Aaron's fingers trembled and his eyes bulged, Mason sprung himself forward into the office. As the black soldier fired a burst after him, Tyler and Aaron's guns roared. They emptied their magazines completely; hardly taking the time to re-aim. Tyler screamed as he discharged nine rounds of 00-Buck; not noticing the punishment his shoulder was taking from a combination of both the hard-hitting power of the shells and the light-weight of the gun and Aaron leaned forward as he fought to control the muzzle-rise of the M-4 as it spewed out thirty-rounds of hot 5.56 at his targets. After hardly three seconds, it was over faster than it had began. As the reality of the situation set in, Aaron and Tyler saw their work. The two soldiers were lying close to each other motionless.

"COVER THOSE FUCKING STAIRS!" Mason's voice yelled from the office. The firing began almost immediately from the stair-case as Tyler and Aaron spun around. As the two men dropped behind cover, Mason popped his head out and began firing over them; delivering a hail of covering fire toward the stairwell as his comrades reloaded. He'd only seen the legs of one of the responding soldiers and he hadn't seen a body fall. He'd missed.

As Mason's fire stopped, Aaron's began. Tyler was still crouched behind a desk; trembling as he slowly reloaded buckshot into his Benelli. He was cursing himself for leaving the UMP-40 in the LMV. He could have used the fast re-load time. Aaron let out a burst and paused. He had the terrible feeling that they were being flanked. He stuck his gun out again and fired until the bolt locked in the rearward position and his grip switched to the Master-Key shotgun attached to the barrel. He fired as fast as he could, ejecting 4 shells from the weapon before it was empty. Behind him, Mason opened up again with a burst. Tyler joined him; letting out a quick two shots before stopping to watch for movement. There was none; just misleading silence.

When Mason heard the pause in fire, he took off from the tiny office; darting down the remainder of the tiny hall and diving behind a steel-desk beside Tyler. He slapped Tyler on the shoulder, then looked at Aaron.

You guys, I'll give you covering fire and you go down that little hall and get back into the main hallway." He pointed to their right. "There's another stairwell that leads to this level over there and I don't want them getting a drop on us. Ready?"

"Fuck." Tyler grumbled with a hesitant nod. Mason looked at Aaron and Aaron gave him a shaky thumbs-up.

"On my mark." Mason stuck out his Commando and set his USP beside him. "NOW!" He let out a long burst and Aaron and Tyler took off to their rear down the little hall. By the time Mason's Commando ran dry, they were behind cover. Mason raised his USP. He had a bad feeling.

Tyler and Aaron hit the hallway hard; both of them covering the staircase shakily. It was quiet in an uncomfortable way. Knowing Mason was covering the stairs, they took a right at the hallway intersection and moved quickly down to the end of the hall. Their minds were bouncing everywhere; playing tricks on them. Ever step, they imagined they saw movement, but there was none. At least not until they'd calmed down.

As Tyler and Aaron closed in on the last few yards to the stairs, the right shoulder of a man popped out from the doorway. Out of a mixture of surprise and desperation, Aaron let his gun roar. The bullets sprayed everywhere and out of blind luck, one hit a fire-extinguisher on the wall next to the exit doors located right by the stairwell. It exploded into a fantastic cloud of white; immediately followed by screams of pain. The two-man team wasted no time. They closed in on the door and Tyler parried slowly to his left; ready to fire should anything make a wrong move. The screams of pain were still erupting from the corridor. Tyler leaned to his left and paused.

"I can't fuckin' see shit man!" A soldier was lying back with his hands desperately rubbing his eyes. His uniform was covered with chemicals from the busted fire-extinguisher. "Lynch! Lynch I can't fucking see!"

Tyler shot the wounded soldier in the face; shredding up his hands that were busy rubbing his burned eyes and sinking the BB's deep into the soldier's nasal-cavity, cheek-bones, and eye sockets. He let out a shaky breath and trained his Ghost-Ring sights on the top of the first landing. He swallowed uncomfortably. He knew there was someone else up there. Just waiting. Aaron stepped up beside him and Tyler motioned forward with his head. Aaron shook his head; no. He pointed at Tyler's shotgun. Aaron didn't want a shotgun covering him from behind in a tight space. It could shred him. They were in a stalemate; plain and simple.

Mason stared through his Aimpoint scope; keeping it about level with the center mass of the average human being. His mind was driven to kill these bastards. The girl in the office was dead. When the black soldier had fired a burst at him, the bullets had penetrated the thin wall; one connecting with her head. He was out for blood. He'd heard the burst of fire from Aaron's gun too , but he had no idea who'd gotten hit. All he'd heard was moans of pain and then a gunshot. He tried to ignore it. He needed to stay patient. There was no way that little burst killed both of his friends. It sounded like a 'spray and pray' to him. He let out a deep breath slowly; trying not to shake. His legs hurt like a motherfucker and he wasn't sure how much more of the waiting-game his high-strung mentality would let him play. As he shifted his weight to his other knee, a head popped out. **BOOM! **Mason's reflexes brought his gun right on target and a soldier fell out from cover with his face shattered.

"MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!" The remaining soldier at the top of the landing couldn't take seeing his friend get killed instantly before his eyes. His mind snapped and he came out with his gun blazing. It wasn't directly aimed at Mason. It was just in Mason's general direction. As the bullets began to walk their way toward him, Mason let out a burst of four rounds; causing the soldier to fall forward down the stairs and onto his face on the hallway floor.

Mason slipped out from behind cover and crept up to the soldier. He wasn't dead, but his breaths were weak and muffled. Mason turned him on his side and looked him in the eye.

"I really didn't want to do that." Mason said quietly; rechecking the stairs. "How many guys upstairs?"

"Fuck you." The soldier said weakly and Mason tipped his head thoughtfully.

"All right then." Mason put the muzzle of the Commando to the soldier's face and squeezed the trigger. The bullet caved a little hole into the man's head and the expression on his face mutated into the inhuman image of a body trying desperately to survive. Mason stomach churned as he watched. The soldier now looked like a mentally challenged person trying to eat. His mouth kept moving open and shut in this God-awful way that Mason couldn't stand, but couldn't help to watch. Slowly, it stopped and a weak exhale of air came from the man's lungs as his body died.

"Fuck." Mason croaked. He really wished he hadn't seen that. It was so horrid that he almost wished he'd just let the guy die quietly on his own rather than shoot him. Mason looked away from the body and down the hall. He saw Aaron and Tyler with their guns up and a large weight was removed from his shoulders. Level-two was on the menu.

Mason was about to take off up the stairs when he noticed the soldier's gun. It was an M4A1 with an M203 mounted under the barrel. He felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. If they'd fired that at him, he'd be a goner. They must not have wanted to risk it in such close quarters. He grabbed it; leaving his Commando on the floor, and stole a few of the dead soldier's magazines and the last two M203 Grenades he had for his grenade-launcher. Mason was down to three mags and he the soldier wouldn't be needing them. He reloaded the M4A1 and looked up the stairs again. He'd have to do this one alone.

Mason crept up the steps. He knew very well that there could be multiple soldiers on the second level and even if there were only two or three, he'd still be out-gunned and possibly out of cover. It didn't matter. Aaron and Tyler were sitting ducks at the bottom of the stairway and that's all he had to think about to justify what he was doing.

Mason came to the second-floor landing and stopped. There was no sound; just that awkward silence that instills the fact that nothing's ok. He crept up to the edge of the wall and looked down the hall that went to the right. It was clear. It was the left hall that he was worried about. That's where the second stairwell was located and where Aaron and Tyler were pinned. Mason took a deep breath and poked his head out.

A burst of rifle fire met Mason as he looked out from behind cover. He pulled his head back quickly and took a deep breath. He knew he was at a disadvantage. All the two soldiers had to do was wait for him to poke his head out again and that would be that. They could see everything-

Mason interrupted his own thought process. He felt his vest and bit his lower lip anxiously. He had two smoke grenades. He pulled one out of one of his vest pouches and pulled the pin. He wait a moment for the smoke to start pouring out, then threw it lightly around the corner. It landed about twenty feet from him, rolled a little ways, then stopped. The smoke quickly filled up the hall; creating a thick wall of powdery gray smoke. Perfect.

Mason tensely and clumsily opened the M203's chamber and slipped in a 40mm grenade. He'd never fired one before, and wasn't real sure about their ballistics. He took a deep breath. Now was the time to learn. Mason popped out from behind cover, and pulled the M203's trigger. It made a crisp sort of thumping sound and a moment later, a deafening boom ripped through his ear-drums. Before moving, Mason emptied the loaded magazine through the M-4, reloaded, then darted blindly forward.

Aaron winced as they heard a loud explosion from the upstairs. He'd seen Mason crouched over the dying soldier, but he hadn't been watching when Mason had gone up the stairs. He had no idea what was happening, or who had shot what. All he knew was that he hated this and he hated the National Guard.

"Fuck it, I give up!" A lone voice came from the corridor. It sounded young, maybe early twenties. A young man with very thin facial hair stepped onto the staircase with his hands in the air. Tyler lowered his shotgun and looked at Aaron. Aaron just shrugged. They didn't really want to shoot an unarmed guy.

"Well, keep your hands-"

**BOOM!** Tyler and Aaron jumped as the kid's head lurched to the right and blood spewed out of it; shooting all over the wall and pooling around the kid's face when he hit the floor. Mason stepped out from the stairs and gave the body a kick.

"Fuck, man." Tyler said dryly; shaking his head. He hadn't seen so much human-death before. At least not unfolding before his eyes. He looked at Mason. Mason had become something else. He wasn't a monster. He'd just lost most of his tenderness through the ordeal. Having Aya run off may have just flipped some switch inside the young man's head.

"Nice to see you dead today." Mason spat on the Guardsman and looked at Aaron. He was looked at Mason nervously. "You ok buddy?" Mason asked in a chipper tone.

"I don't know yet." Aaron said hesitantly. "This whole thing made me feel kind of fucked up."

"Yeah I hear ya." Mason nodded. "Let's talk about that after we check for ammo." Mason turned around and Tyler patted Aaron on the shoulder.

"Just don't think about it until we're out of the shit." Tyler whispered. "I'm not Doctor Phil but I know this shit can fuck you up pretty bad if you think about it too much." He shrugged. "Trust me."

"I believe you." Aaron nodded. It wasn't so much returning fire that bothered him. It was seeing Mason execute someone. It gave him a cold feeling in a place he couldn't pin-point. He shook it away and followed Tyler up the stairs. Mason was already in the upstairs hall, screaming at no one in particular.

"Come on out motherfuckers, we just killed all your friends! Don't make this harder than it has to be!" Mason's voice echoed down the hall.

Aaron and Tyler stepped into the hall and looked at Mason's mess. There'd obviously been a nice sized explosion and it had been very effective in the circumstances.

"Oofda." Tyler said quietly. Two soldiers were a few yards away from each other; staring into nothing. One's leg was twisted sideways and the front half of his foot was gone. It looked like the second one had taken the worst of it. His face seemed to have been singed, or blown off. The front of his body was smoking.

"Hey Mason!" Aaron shouted and when Mason turned around things took a harsh turn. Tyler noticed movement coming out of a classroom ahead of them. As he raised his pistol, he discharged it at the same time as a muzzle-blast came from the classroom. Tyler emptied his pistol at whoever had shot and Aaron joined him; spraying the remainder of his M4A1's magazine at the perpetrator; puncturing multiple holes in the soldier's upper body, and through his Kevlar helmet; the bullets punching through his skull and lodging themselves in his brain. He slumped down into a pile in the doorway he'd stepped out of. Tyler looked at Mason and his eyes bulged.

"Motherfucking bastard!" Mason groaned through his teeth as he slumped against the hallway wall. The bullet had gone right into his back and out the edge of his left pectoral muscle about an inch high and three inches left of his heart. The soldier had probably been aiming for it. Tyler's pistol fire had disrupted his aim. Tyler knelt down beside Mason and looked at his wound.

"Are you going to be ok man?" Tyler's voice was calm, but scared. He'd developed this weird belief that Mason and him couldn't get hurt. He knew that was silly, but through everything they hadn't gotten a scratch. Now he knew the terrible reality.

"Yeah," Mason spat; looking further down the hallway, "check these rooms out. If you find anything cool let me know." He gritted his teeth as he sat up and drew his pistol. "I'll cover your asses."

"Okay." Tyler nodded and looked at Aaron. Aaron nodded too and they were off; quickly clearing rooms. A few minutes later; they were clear and they'd discovered a wonderful surprise.

"Mason, Mason!" Mason looked over at Tyler and winced as he climbed to his feet.

"Holy shit, you have to check this out!" Aaron giggled as he stepped out of one of the rooms. "This is like- better than "Down the Hatch 22" except its guns instead of chicks eating the loads of fifteen guys in one sitting."

"Ish," Mason shook his head in disgust as he climbed painfully to his feet, "you are one strange individual man." He walked slowly down the hall and stopped outside the door. He looked at Tyler. Even he was grinning to no end. "Is it that good?"

"I'm stunned." Tyler ran his hand through his hair. "Go in. You need to see it more than I do."

Mason nodded and walked through the door. He stopped and his mouth fell open. He was silent as he stared. His breath was taken away. Before him, tubs and tubs of confiscated weapons sat untouched along with tubs and boxes of loose ammunition, boxed ammunition, and ammunition in magazines. It seemed the Guard had taken the guns from the people who'd come to the school. Apparently, there had been a lot of gun-guys who had decided they should go seek shelter from the Military, rather than their own might. It had been a sad, and bad call. The only up-side was that Mason, Tyler, and Aaron were reaping the benefits. Mason let out a deep, painful breath and looked at his buddies.

"We have to go through this shit fast… in fact." Mason looked at the guns again, gritted his teeth as he touched his wound, then back at Tyler and Aaron. "You two go check on the bus. I'll start sorting through this to see what we can use and what we can't. Does that sound good?" Tyler and Aaron nodded. "Ok then," Mason shrugged his good shoulder, "let's get this shit show rolling."

_Wow, like four months for two chapters. Sorry guys, I've been very busy with re-loading and my uncle died, and a whole bunch of other shitty shit that's gotten in the way. I had to change the last chapter like three times too because I didn't like where it was going. Keep in touch, and keep checking back. I think I'll be able to work on this more now that the bad parts of my life are cleared up. Plus, its summertime. Take care now._


	11. The People

CHAPTER 11

THE PEOPLE

_"We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival." -Sir Winston Churchill  
_

Mason whistled while he worked. He had about eight plastic tubs of small guns and many rifles stacked and piled throughout the room. It was unbelievable. Everything From Ruger Mark One's to Ed brown 1911's and Marlin 10/22's to a D.P.M.S. S.A.S.S. He scanned the piles calmly; trying not to get too excited. This would take a lot of thought. He sat down at a desk that was pushed to the side of the room and rubbed his chin.

Twenty-two caliber rifles would be great for when the corpses are scattered or on the lawn. Maybe 4, 22. Caliber rifles and a four or five pistols would be good. Based on his first look at the ammo, there was at least two thousand rounds of 22 LR from mixed brands. He'd grab two shotguns; one in 12-gauge and one in whatever other gauge there was the most of. Mason scanned the long-guns from where he was sitting a little more. He'd surely take the D.P.M.S. S.A.S.S. that was a no-brainer. But a couple of bolt actions wouldn't be bad. He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes tiredly. The selection was going to be a bitch.

Tyler and Aaron hit the court-yard with their guns up. The dead were in higher density now. They'd heard the commotion and had been unencumbered by the firefight. They could see their targets now and the two young men were near 50 percent ammo.

Aaron drew his 5906 and began firing. He rapidly squeezed the trigger; sending out as many rounds as possible at them. He wasn't excited, or happy that he was facing unarmed dead people now. In fact, they were much scarier than the guns.

"Keep moving!" Tyler barked as they ran toward a building about 100-yards away. It was a big, yellowish colored garage with many sliding doors. That's where the buses would be.

Aaron had a hard time keeping his focus on the goal straight ahead of them. The corpses seemed to be seeping out of every street, alley, or house he could see. They were massing quickly. Too quickly.

"Do you have any grenades?!" Aaron yelled as he jogged close behind Tyler. His eyes were everywhere, his heart nearly exploding from the adrenaline flowing through him.

"NO!" Tyler shook his head. "I should have grabbed some, but I didn't think of it! I didn't think they'd be showing up so fast!" Tyler's eyes danced around just as fast as Aaron's. Tyler had seen more of them in one place earlier in the day, and knew he could handle a good portion, but that had been in the concrete jungle of down-town Pembleton; a place with many escape routes, buildings, and doorways. This was wide open. There was nothing for Aaron and him to climb on top of, or escape into. Just the bus-garage.

"This is gayer than semen-flavored toothpaste!" Aaron roared. "This just isn't pleasant at all!" His eyes bulged every time one of his feet impacted the ground. He hated running. Ever since he was younger, running was just the worst thing ever. He remembered trying to get in shape when he was around twenty-three. The feeling of the gravel under his feet as his weight hitting the ground. He felt like he was going to die with every step. He'd taken up weight-lifting instead and it had done wonders for him. Now he wished he maybe would have put a little more time into cardio. It's hard to know to prepare for dead cannibals though. He'd always expected civil-war before that.

They reached the bus-garage before any groups of the dead could close in and Tyler swung open the door. He entered with the shotgun trained straight ahead and spit on the ground as Aaron entered behind him and closed the door. Sitting idly before them were three buses, and, to their satisfaction, a Humvee with a mounted M240B. Tyler looked at Aaron and smirked.

"Check that Hummer man." Tyler walked up to the nearest bus and looked carefully inside it. "I'll get this fucker going."

Aaron went straight to the hummer and hopped inside. He looked and the back and nodded in satisfaction. There were several military fuel tanks sitting untouched. That would be nice in case the tank was low, or if the Bus-tanks were low. He turned his attention to the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life and he chuckled with excitement as he climbed out. Tyler looked at him, less excited, and shrugged.

"I have like an eighth a tank of gas." Tyler let out a grumbled groan; rubbing his eyes. He wasn't excited for anymore road-blocks. He knew as far as they'd get would be only by the will of God and he couldn't ask for more than that, but why did each step have to be so rough? If they were going to die, why couldn't it be by the National Guard's guns rather than the mouths of the damned?

"Don't knock it man," Aaron said happily, stepping toward the back of the National Guard Hummer, "I've got the key." He opened the back of the Humvee and looked at the fuel tanks. God was smiling on them.

"Now let's not be stupid." Mason said loudly to himself as he rechecked his first bin of chosen firearms. There were plenty of carefully selected arms he'd chosen. The list so far was as follows.

_One count Ruger Mark 3_

_One count Ruger Mark 2_

_One count S&W 27_

_Two count Glock 17_

_One count Glock 35_

_One count Ed Brown Special Ops 1911_

_One Count CZ-75B 9mm_

_One Count Beretta M92FS_

_one Count FNP-45_

_One Count Colt Series 70_

_One Count Smith and Wesson 500_

_One Count Smith and Wesson 454 Casull_

Mason looked at his collection so far. It was really hard as a collector to not pick guns based on their collector value. He almost felt like it was a free-for-all as far as value. He knew it was better though to focus on the situation, rather than the gun.

Mason knelt down and pulled an H&K P2000 from a random bin and pulled back the slide as he heard the classroom door open behind him.

"That was fast." Mason said happily; not looking up from the H&K. "We have to go through the rest of this stuff before we take off." He turned and looked at the door; his face morphing into a scowl as he saw the person before him.

"Relax." The older man in an Army uniform said to Mason as the door closed behind him. "I'm unarmed." The soldier stepped partially into the room and put his hands in the air. Mason followed it up by drawing his USP and aiming it at the Soldier's pelvis.

"I was expecting this." The soldier said. "I knew that eventually some self-justified vigilantes would find their way here and give us a show worth our while." The soldier smiled and shrugged. "I am Sergeant Allen Woodsdale." He smirked as Mason raised an eye brow. "I was in command of this outfit."

"So?" Mason said impartially. He was hardly interested in making friends with the man who had just tried to lead his team to kill Mason's friends. The fact that he was wearing a uniform held no bearing on Mason. This man was the enemy and he had no place speaking to Mason in diplomatic terms.

"Oh, don't be so coy." Woodsdale said impartially. "I'm not here to make friends. I'm only here to negotiate the terms of my surrender." Woodsdale laughed as Mason's face twisted into a sight of confused disarray. "Why did you come here boy? To look for weapons, survivors? Or did you come here because your Government told you to?"

"Fuck yourself." Mason said aggressively as he continued to train his USP's sights on the man standing casually before him. "I came here because you had something I needed to save the lives of innocent people. The lives of people you ignored and destroyed; only looking to enlighten and support yourself." Mason scowled. "Bow down motherfucker, this is your end."

"Don't be naïve young man." Woodsdale said with a chuckle. "You're only doing what you're mind says is right. Don't act like you actually agree. You know as well as I do that these… people are nothing but a waste of effort and time. They are nothing but a burden on you. That's why I did what I did. I knew my men would only die trying to save these wastes of humanity. It was worth the sacrifice. You know it as well as I do. You're just trying to save your sense of self-righteousness."

Mason stared through his sights. He didn't need some man telling him what life was all about, or what the will of human-kind was. He didn't need some heartless fuck to tell him where the world was going, or how the acts of God were unfolding before him. Mason's eyes became cold and the grip on his USP became tighter.

"Where's your Chopper Crew?" Mason asked through clenched teeth. "I know you had a bird in the air." Braden flashed through Mason's mind. He had to fight to not squeeze the trigger.

"Out finding Chopper-Fuel." Woodsdale said smartly. "They DO require fuel to fly."

"Where's the rest of your platoon? Where's your support?" Mason ignored Woodsdale's smart mouth. Once Mason knew what he needed to know, Woodsdale wouldn't be a problem anymore.

"This is a war young man." Woodsdale said defiantly. "People die in wars."

"You don't say?" Mason grunted. "Well its looking like your whole team just got fucked up real good."

"You and your self-righteous bullshit!" Woodsdale spat. "You think you can save the world?" He let out a sigh. "Good luck." He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. "In the gymnasium downstairs, there are approximately eight civilians. Maybe they can add to your hardship, since you can't bring yourself to do the right thing."

"I'm doing the right thing right now." Mason smiled and his gun echoed off the walls and Woodsdale fell back. He screamed from the pain of his shattered pelvic bone and Mason stepped over him. "Oh, sorry I shot you in the pelvis." Mason said sarcastically and shrugged. "I thought you might be wearing body-armor and this is a 45." He grinned. Woodsdale obviously wasn't wearing body-armor. Mason took a deep breath and sighed. "Now I can't have too much fun." He emptied the rest of the magazine into Woodsdale's chest and spat on him. He wouldn't be getting up from that one.

Mason turned back to the supplies stacked in the room. He'd get back to it when he needed to, but he figured he might as well give his friends a little bit of a checking on. He was, after all, taking point on the whole operation. After that he'd go check on this Gymnasium-deal Woodsdale had mentioned. More people could never be a bad thing.

He looked over the pile of long guns and smirked in delight. A Swedish Mauser was sticking out from the group. He grabbed it and pulled back the bolt. Now to find ammo. He looked at the card-board boxes stacked behind him and sighed; irritated.

It took a few minutes before Mason found a box of 6.5x55 infantry to go with his Mauser before he hit the hallway and then the stairs. He'd topped off his load-out with an M249 that was sitting by some ammo cans and a few belts of ammo to go along with it. He could admit that it was all a little heavy, especially for his shoulder, but if push came to shove he'd just drop the Mauser and start tearing it up with the M249.

Mason ran up the stairs until he saw a sign that said "roof-access" then he hit the door. It swung open and finally he was outside again. He walked quickly up to the ledge, singing quietly to himself as he set down the M249 and opened the bolt on the Swedish Mauser.

"Muh, muh, muh, mah

Can't read my, can't read my, no you can't read my poker face." Mason, in a humorously relaxed state of mind, sang the lyrics to the song "Poker Face" as he put rounds of 6.5x55 into the Mauser. He slammed the bolt shut and leaned against the ledge. He couldn't see Tyler or Aaron across the courtyard, but there were corpses wandering up to the bus-garage doors, so Mason figured his compatriots had managed to get inside. He casually put a dip of Skoal-Straight into his mouth and spit a stream of tobacco-juice onto the ground beneath his feat.

"Let's rock." Mason aimed down the sights and put a round of hard-ball through the head of a straggling black corpse. As clumps of the corpse's head flew into the air, Mason quickly worked the bolt and pivoted slightly; searching with the steel sights of the old infantry rifle. He centered them on another and squeezed. The corpse toppled forward; face-planting into the wet grass.

"And boom goes the dynamite." Mason snickered; chambering a fresh round. He quickly checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was sneaking up behind him and turned back to the court-yard. To his delight, a group of six or so corpses were walking near one another not fifty-yards from him; not paying attention to the gunfire erupting from the roof-top as they approached the bus-garage.

"Oh, that's a fucking Yahtsi." Mason said excitedly as his hands began to shake with anticipation. He grabbed the M249 and opened the top cover. He inserted the first round of a 200-round belt and then closed the cover again. He slammed the bolt-mechanism forward and took a shaky breath. He leaned the legs of the bipod on the ledge; centering the sights in the middle of the group and consciously pushed all his weight forward. He squeezed the trigger.

The gun let out a triumphant roar as it began to spew out 5.56 rounds. Mason felt his adrenaline begin to flow as he swept the barrel back and forth; kicking up dirt all around the corpses as he showered them with bullets. He let the gun talk for seven seconds before he let the trigger forward and with a look of excited-awe on his face he looked over the pile of motionless bodies. A grin slowly formed. Mason was in love.

"That's a shit-load of gunfire!" Tyler yelled over the noise of the engines running inside the garage. "We'd better get out there!"

"Ok!" Aaron gave a thumbs up; shifting the Humvee into "drive." Apparently they were going right through the doors. No need to get swarmed when they opened them up. Aaron looked at the passenger's seat and lay his M4A1 on it so he could grab it if needed. He hadn't really had the chance to deal with the corpses up close and personal yet. Part of him was excited. He wasn't worried about the shooting part of it. The whole "shooting people" thing had been much worse, and more demoralizing than firing a barrage of un-aimed bullets at the empty-shells of what used to be people and were now dead-cannibals. He took a deep breath as he saw the bus lurch into gear. It was show-time.

Mason almost shit his pants when the big yellow bus tore through the closed garage doors across the court-yard. He began to laugh hysterically as he watched the once-innocent school-bus began running down the slow moving corpses as it tore across the grass. It was astounding. The corpses wandered directly into its path; completely disregarding the fact that they had no chance against it. Mason lit a cigarette. He could only thank God that they were so brainless.

He got up from his kneeling position and began waving his arms; trying to get Tyler's attention. He stopped dead when he noticed the Humvee tear through the garage doors. His jaw fell open and he slowly smiled. "Fuck yeah." Mason nodded slowly. "Fuck yeah." He turned his eyes back to the bus. Tyler had seen him. He motioned the best he could for Tyler to back the bus up to the double doors. When he saw Tyler nod, he turned around and took off with the M249 in hand and a belt of ammo around his neck. The whole thing was going to get complicated fast. He needed to be get down to the main level. He hit the building-access doors as took off down the stairs.

Aaron rolled the Humvee to a stop fifty-yards from the bus. He had a good view of the entire surrounding area from where he was and he knew that Tyler was going to need cover. He took a deep breath as he turned off the engine and climbed into the back of the vehicle. He stood up, poking the upper-half of his body through the turret, and grabbed the pistol-grip of the M240B. It looked to be loaded, but he wasn't sure how much ammo was left in the box. He just flipped off the safety and turned the toward the street. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. The corpses were en-mass now.

Aaron looked down the M240's sights and began firing. He wasn't very precise, but he wasn't really trying to be either. He fired burst after burst; sending out about seven rounds with every squeeze of the trigger. He could see the corpses falling. He looked toward the bus and his eyes bulged. Plenty of corpses had come around the side of the building and were closing in on the entrance doors Tyler was backing the bus up to. He turned the gun on them and held the trigger. The gun roared and Aaron felt his adrenaline flow. He felt powerful, almost too powerful. He began to yell at the top of his lungs as the belt-fed, medium-machinegun spit out 7.62mm ball rapidly; gouging holes in the brick side of the building and ripping raggedly through the bodies of the dead men and women walking blankly toward the bus.

Aaron's eyes widened from the rush of his work as he walked his fire back and forth; reigning down what seemed like infinite destruction on nameless, mindless bodies. They shook, and spasmed violently as the bullets impacted them, falling forward emotionlessly as they were either shut down or immobilized. Aaron didn't stop until the gun went dry.

When the M240 stopped, Aaron came out of his dazed tunnel-vision. He turned to the right and his heart nearly exploded. There were corpses closing within ten feet. As his eyes bulged, he disappeared back into the cab of the Humvee. He rose through the turret again with the M-4 in his hands. He stared through the Acog, and fired on semi-auto. He through out accurate round after round; dropping bodies into lifeless piles left and right. As the little group died down to a few, he set the M-4 on the roof to his side and drew his 5906. He focused on the front side and shot the last three corpses in their faces; dropping them to the ground and adding them to his climbing kill-count. As the action around him died down, Aaron paused; breathing raggedly.

"Whoa…" Aaron trailed off. That was a rush.

Back in the school, Mason was waiting inside the doors watching Tyler back the bus up to the doors. As the bus closed in, Mason shoved the doors outward and the bus rolled in between them as they closed; making a sort of extended-wall that gave access to the building without the corpses being able to get in. As Mason stood waiting, the rear door of the bus flung open and Tyler smiled at him.

"Hi honey." Mason grinned. Tyler chuckled lightly; looked toward the front of the bus, then back at Mason.

"Aaron's going to town with that machinegun."

"Yeah I heard that." Mason laughed; looking over his shoulder. "Motion for him to get his ass in here. I have a little news for you guys." Mason took a deep breath; wincing from the pain of his shoulder. They had to check out the gymnasium. No sense leaving behind good people. He looked at Tyler and shrugged. "A guy told me some stuff."

"Hey Lance," Chase said in a friendly tone. He was standing behind the Nurse's Station desk with his arms crossed. Lance looked at the young man, unimpressed, and crossed his arms.

"What can I do for you Chase?" Lance had experienced Chase's unlikable personality more than once and had come to dislike the young man on every level. He was surprised to see Chase smiling at him.

"Sorry I've been such a fag." Chase shrugged; looking at the ground. "This whole thing has just kind of freaked me out. You know?"

"Yeah," Lance's face became warm and more relaxed. He knew exactly how the kid felt, "Don't worry about it. People change when bad things happen. Its hard to control." Lance nodded and Chase shrugged.

"Hey, I have to show you something." Chase turned toward a small room behind the nurse's desk. "You'll be happy." Lance just rose his eye brows; stepping in Chase's direction.

"Really?" Lance had checked every accessible room for supplies and was surprised that Chase had found something he'd missed. Either way, he was glad to know there was something to look forward to.

"Yeah, totally." Chase stepped into the small room; waving his arm for Lance to follow. Lance did without question; laying the Mossberg on the desk behind him. He stepped into the room behind Chase and crossed his arms. "So what's this I'm going to be so excited about?" He stepped up close behind where Chase was crouched and wrinkled his eye brows.

"Look at this." Chase spun around and hit Lance in the side of the head with a piece of steel that he'd found in one of the maintenance closets. In a daze, Lance stared at him in confusion. Chase hit him again and Lance fell to the ground. Chase continued his brutal beating; delivering blow after blow to Lance's head until the officer was motionless and not breathing. Chase knelt down beside Lance's body and pulled his Glock from his holster.

"Thank you." Chase said as he pulled open the office door. That was all he wanted. He stepped back out into the hall and looked around. Everyone else was in the lunch-room. It was his chance to sneak out. He grabbed Lance's Mossberg from the counter and set his sights on the emergency exit. If Mason had made it, he could. After all, Mason was just some faggot meat-head.

Chase walked down the hall and stepped up to the emergency exit. He wasn't nervous at all. He'd been waiting for his chance to escape since the whole thing had begun. He turned the handle and pushed the door outward; expecting nothing. It wasn't what he'd been prepared for. As the door swung open, several sets of hands grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him out the door. As he yelped in surprise, a corpse took a deep bite out of his forearm; chewing as it pulled its mouth away. He screamed in agony as he fell backwards; propping the door open with his body. The corpses moved in; kneeling over him as they began to ravage his body. They began biting every exposed part of his body; tearing way flash as he cried out to no one. As they ate, more corpses walked passed him into the hallway of the hospital.

"In the Gymnasium." Mason nodded as Tyler looked at him with raised eye brows. "That Sergeant told me." He crossed his arms and shrugged. "Doesn't hurt to take a look."

"We can take a look." Aaron motioned to Mason; glancing at the bloody wound on Mason's shoulder. He looked at Tyler. "You can keep putting the supplies in the bus." Mason glanced passed Aaron and smirked as a corpse crawled its way under the bus and into the hall. Aaron shot it in the top op its head with his 5906.

"Ok," Tyler nodded, "but you guys be fucking careful." He took a deep breath; letting a scowl take over his face. "Just hurry the fuck up."

"You got it." Mason smirked, then winced as he clenched his teeth. His shoulder was killing him. He winked at Tyler as he pulled out his USP. "Don't get excited and take off without is now."

"Well don't be a fuck-off." Tyler pulled the Benelli toward his chest. "We've been here for like two hours. Have you seen how many of those assholes are outside?"

"Yeah, yeah." Mason rolled his eyes. "Five minutes can't hurt." He let out a sigh and looked at Aaron. "Are you ready boss-man?"

"Can't be worse than before." Aaron shrugged; putting a fresh magazine in his M-4. "Let's go." He looked at Tyler. "Laters."

"Yeah." Tyler laughed hesitantly. "Laters." He waved as his friends took off and he crossed his arms. Of course he was left with the heavy-lifting.

In the gymnasium, Private Kary S. Whitman was staring at the door nervously. He'd heard every gunshot and every scream of pain; not knowing who it was from, or what was going on. It didn't help that no one would answer their radio.

Behind him there were eight civilians. They weren't bound, or gagged, but they knew the consequences of moving toward the soldier. Five dead bodies lay motionless in the room; flies eating off of their dead-bodies. They hadn't known better.

Cory Trautman stared at the soldier; clenching his teeth. He hadn't felt so much hate for anyone in his whole life. He stared at the soldier as he nervously watched the gymnasium doors with his gun shouldered. Cory's upper lip twitched. He could hardly fathom what he'd seen on the second day of the war. He'd been calmly sitting in the Gym with his parents when all hell broke loose. There had been so much shooting and yelling that he hadn't known what was going on. It wasn't until two soldiers walked into their room with their guns aimed that he'd put two and two together. In small groups, the civilians had been walked out of the gymnasium; barrages of gunfire following shortly. Both of Cory's parents had been in one of the groups. He hadn't seen them in a couple days. He knew the truth, but his mind didn't want to accept it. He hadn't seen their bodies so there was a glimmer of hope. It remained now matter how many times his 15-year-old mind forced him to cry.

Cory watched in silent discontent as the soldier talked into his radio. The look on the soldier's face was scared. Cory didn't care what was happening anymore. He was fine with the whole group of prisoners dying as long as he got to watch the soldier die first. What happened next was far beyond his imagination.

As Cory stared, one set of the gymnasium doors seemed to explode. As the soldier raised his gun, a very solidly built man entered the room with his gun aimed. With a quick burst of fire, the soldier fell sideways; motionlessly hitting the floor. A second man entered the room; sweeping every corner of the room with his gun, and the first man knelt down to the floor. He looked over everyone and smiled.

"Hey…" The armed man said with a smile. "You guys ok?"

Mason yawned as the group of hostages moved freely around the gym for the first time. He smiled amiably; realizing that for the first time in his life, he'd ended a hostage-situation.

"Hey." Mason was brought out of his thought-process by a young voice. He looked down and smiled at a young man who was looking up at him.

"How you doing, man?"

"I want a gun" It was Cory who was staring at Mason. Mason just grinned and shrugged.

"Well I want a gallon of Jack Daniels Black, but I'm not complaining." Mason grinned even bigger. "You ever shot a gun before?"

"I'm in the "Explorer Scouts" and I've been hunting since I was eight. I've shot a bunch of guns." Cory crossed his arms. He wanted a gun and that was that. Mason's eye brows raised and his jaw dropped open.

"The Explorers?! Really?!" Mason was impressed. "Man, I wish I'd gotten into that shit!" The Explorer Scouts were a branch out of the boy scouts; training with Law-Enforcement to draw young people into the Local and Federal Law enforcement community. He pulled his USP out of his leg holster and handed it to Cory without hesitation. "What's your name dude?"

"Cory Trautman." Cory said calmly. "What's yours?" Cory wasn't calm all the time, but his senses were telling him that this was the right time. It was time to be level-headed and show that he could hold his own. He stared at Mason's face; waiting for a response.

"Like Colonel Trautman in Rambo?" Mason giggled. "Well, Trautman, you're on my good-side." He shook Cory's hand firmly. "Welcome to the team." Cory shook Mason's hand firmly.

"Thanks."

From the gymnasium, Mason and Aaron joined Tyler to load the supplies into the bus. Along with the ammunition, there was a good supply of military meals-ready-to-eat. They all knew they'd need it. After all there were about 40 people to feed and support. That wouldn't be easy to take care of if the situation didn't clear up.

"Ok," Mason slammed on the back door of the bus." The dead had closed in to the bus and were rocking it back and forth steadily. Mason looked at Aaron. "You going to be ok dude?" Aaron just chuckled.

"Just cover me when I'm moving to the Hummer." Aaron shrugged. "Then I'll be ok."

"Ok." Mason nodded; looking behind him toward the very opposite end of the hall. "When you guys are ready, I'll hop into the LMV. Ready?"

"Ready when you are." Aaron nodded. "Don't get scared now." He smiled sarcastically and Mason nodded.

"Yeah, very funny." Mason squeezed the grip on the M249. "Very funny."


	12. Twelve, thirteen, and fourteen

CHAPTER 12

CHANGING THE TIDES

Mason looked over his shoulder as the yellow-bus pulled away from the doors. It was like a break in a levy; the dead began to pour into the hall as the gap in the outer defenses was left open for them to penetrate. He looked back toward his exit door and snarled in fear disguised as anger. There were plenty in his way as well; almost too many. He shook his head. There WERE too many. They'd simply close in on him and tear him apart; regardless of the M249 in his grasp. He put his hand on the door-handle. He didn't have much of a choice. He took a deep breath. Maybe if he waited for the right moment.

"There's too fucking many!" Tyler roared to anyone who was listening; his eyes bugging out; the hostages in the bus became uneasy as at his tone. He'd dropped off Aaron close enough to the Hummer and he was closing in behind. He was seeing the same thing as Tyler. "Why the fuck didn't we just drop him off?!" Tyler slammed his fists against the steering-wheel savagely; his skin-turning a purplish-red. Was this the end for Mason Krauss? Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler noticed movement. He looked off in the distance as he rolled to a stop and his heart sank. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand and his hands began to tremble. There was a Helicopter coming toward the school.

* * *

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Aaron chattered as he saw the Helicopter in the sky. If it was armed, as he suspected it was, they were going to be annihilated. Neither the armor of the Humvee, or the soft skin of the Yellow School bust would provide much resistance against anything 223 caliber or above. His hands squeezed tightly around the steering-wheel and he looked back at the M240B turret. He could go for it, but he hadn't reloaded it since his last round yet. He grabbed the M4 off of the seat beside him and looked to make sure it was loaded. He wouldn't be able to do much with the M-4, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

* * *

It took Mason a moment longer to see the Helicopter. When he did, his mind made an instant choice. He spun around and ran down the hall toward the large mass of the dead that was swarming in through the opposite doorway. When he got half-way there, he took a left and sprinted up the stairs to the second floor. He took another left down the hall, his lungs wheezing, and he shoved open the door to the make-shift supply room. There were still plenty of guns inside, and plenty of ammo that he hadn't expected them to need. He stepped up to the pile of guns; knowing what he was looking for: An "Accuracy International" AWM in .338 Lapua mag. He looked around hastily for a moment, before spotting it. He pulled it from the pile and turned his sights on the ammo. He scanned quickly; sifting through the random boxes. He was running out of time. He switched to the next box-full of ammo. He was sweating profusely. If he didn't get outside and do something about this, the school would be the last place he'd ever see.

Mason jumped excitedly when he found the half-empty box of .338 Lapua and took off back into the hall. He sprinted back to the stairs and skidded to a halt. The dead were coming onto the landing.

"FUCK!" Mason screamed as he stepped back; throwing the AWM over his shoulder painfully and raising the M249. He brought the muzzle up so he was aiming from the hip and squeezed the trigger. The gun barked and tried to climb as it fired rapidly. Mason held it down; roaring in a beastly way as he watched the devastation. The bullets made the corpses shake and spasm as they made contact; dropping bodies down the stairs only to be replaced by more. Mason let-off the trigger and went for the upward stairs again. As he got onto the landing, he pulled a grenade from his vest and pulled the pin with his teeth. He gently tossed it down the stairwell and sprinted up the opposite staircase. A loud boom followed shortly later; the closeness of the walls holding in the momentum of the blast and making the staircase clear for a moment.

Mason shoved his shoulder into the roof-access door and stumbled as his feet met the gravel that covered the school's roof. He could see the chopper closing in now; dropping altitude to take a look at the vehicles that were sitting idly on the Schoolyard. He set the legs of the M249's bipod onto the ledge and took the AWM off his shoulder. Leaning his elbows on the ledge, he looked through the 50mm Scope.

Mason took a deep breath and let it out as he saw the faces of the Chopper-Crew. They were chattering on their radios; looking concerned at the bus and the Humvee. Mason swore as it turned slightly. Now he could only see the left side of the pilot. He adjusted his aim and tipped his head slightly. He could see the gunner now too though. He was sitting behind an M240H; aimed at the bus. Mason set the AWM's sights on the gunner and took another deep breath; holding it. He set his finger on the trigger. He hoped to God that the rifle was zeroed. He pulled the trigger.

**BOOM! **The deep blast of the 338 cartridge made Mason wince hard. He looked through the scope again, but the Chopper turned; making what seemed like an evasive maneuver. Mason reworked the bolt and aimed again. The Chopper was moving toward the School now and climbing. Mason fired again; this time into the cockpit-window. Nothing happened.

* * *

When Aaron saw the muzzle-flash from the school-roof, he dove for the back of the Humvee. He found an ammo box for the M240B and rose through the turret; pulling open the gun's top-cover and disconnecting the empty box from the gun in almost one move. As he pulled the ammo-belt from the fresh box, he heard machinegun fire. He looked up from the M240B with scared-eyes, then sighed. Mason was firing a heavy barrage at the chopper with the M249. It was turning around now; aiming to make another round over the school. Aaron turned back to the M240B. Mason was going to get shredded.

* * *

"Fuck me." Tyler said under his breath as he heard Mason's fire. Suddenly, from behind, another machinegun began to fire. Tyler looked in the rear-view and his heart-beat became faster and harder. Aaron was firing the M240B from the Humvee-turret; delivering more wrath onto the nimble-target above them.

* * *

Mason swore as the M249 clicked empty. He dropped to his chest as the helicopter flew over him. To his surprise, no fire reigned down on him. Even as he made eye contact with the gunner, nothing happened. As Aaron continued to fire, the bird's nose dropped down and the chopper began to retreat at a high rate of speed. As Aaron and Mason continued to watch, they heard more rotors. They both looked around in confusion before they saw the source. There were two more choppers in-bound on their position.

* * *

"Oh God." Aaron swallowed. He'd seen the first chopper many times before. It was an attack chopper. An AH-64 Apache. He could see the pilot now and to Aaron's astonishment, the he waved. Aaron's jaw dropped open, and he hesitantly waved back. As he continued to watch, the chopper came to a slow stop and turned its nose, so it was facing the school. Aaron watched the chopper's 30mm cannon like it was some sort of movie. It began firing on the groups of the dead that were gathered on the school grounds. It was no contest. The HE rounds exploded as they hit the ground; causing uncountable casualties amongst the dead mass. Their bodies and limbs exploded and bodies flew like rag-dolls into the air. It lasted about two minutes and as the fire died down, Aaron raised his eye brows. It was quite the show.

* * *

Mason watched the second chopper with a grin on his face. It was a UH-60 Black-Hawk with a Mini-Gun on board. He waved happily as the Chopper came in close. His left eye-brow raised as the gunner pointed desperately behind him and motioned for him to get down. Mason spun around. The dead were coming out the roof-access doors; their eyes locked onto him. Mason dove behind the ledge and in a dazzling-display of fire-power, the gunner inside the UH-60 began to shoot the 6-barreled electric mini-gun.

Mason laughed with wide-eyes as bodies were nearly cut in half by the 5,000 round per minute fire of the mini-gun. As the bodies fell, he finished reloading the M249 and got up on his knees. He looked at the doorway and shook his head; impressed. There was hardly a doorway left. He could even see through the walls. He looked back at the gunner and gave a thumbs up. The gunner nodded as the chopper parried until it was hovering over the roof. Two ropes dropped from the chopper, one on each side, and as Mason rubbed his hands together, soldiers began to fast-rope to the roof-top. He watched in delight as an entire eleven-man infantry-team assembled on the roof and a soldier walked up to him with a very serious look on his face.

"Are you ok?!" The soldier yelled over the chopper's rotors as it pulled away from the building.

"Better than ever!" Mason shouted. "Good timing!"

"We should have been here sooner!" The soldier yelled back; reaching his hand out to Mason. Mason shook it firmly. "How many were here when you arrived?!" He rose an eye brow when Mason shrugged.

"People or corpses?!" The sound of the rotors faded as Mason snickered. The UH-60 had pulled away to provide over-watch. The soldier chuckled hesitantly.

"How about National Guard troops?!" The soldier looked over his shoulder as his squad began to fire at the doorway again. There were plenty of dead left in the building.

"Oh," Mason hesitated as he thought, "about nine or ten." He looked at his shoulder and grimaced.

"Good work. I'll have someone look at that shoulder." The soldier walked quickly away and Mason sighed. That could have been a disaster.

Mason joked as he was patched up and a few minutes later, the soldier he'd met first and foremost walked up to him again with an impressed look on his face.

"So where you from Cowboy?!" The soldier asked Mason; slapping the medic on the back as he walked away from treating Mason's wound.

"Outside Dallas, sir. Just taking a vacation I guess." Mason watched the bus and Humvee on the courtyard. The AH-64 was hovering over them; firing a short burst every few minutes at enemies unseen by Mason's eyes.

"What's your name?"

"My name?" Mason looked at the soldier. "Mason Krauss."

"I'm Lieutenant Adam Anderson; U.S. Army. You a Combat Vet?"

"No, sir." Mason shook his head. "I just got weird hobbies."

"Good for you." LT. Anderson nodded. "Well, we have to cleanse this building so we can set up an H.Q. Would you like to join us?"

"Nah, I'm good." Mason declined politely. "I've had enough killing today."

"Well I can respect that." the Lieutenant shook Mason's hand again as he turned to his squad. "We'll get your friends in here as soon as the building is secure."

"Is it just you guys?" Mason asked; confused. He had expected to see more U.S. Army troops en-mass to deal with this kind of situation.

"No." The Lieutenant shook his head without looking back. "We have support in bound."

"Sweet." Mason said under his breath; turning to the courtyard again. "Fucking aye."

The clearing of the building didn't take long, but before it was complete, more air-craft sounds began to fill the air. As Mason watched in awe, C-130's began to drop off Armored units via parachutes. The drops weren't dead on, but in a half hour 2 Armored Strykers, and 2 M3A3 Bradleys were positioned on the school-yard and the Apache had disappeared into the horizon. The area was secure for now and Mason had a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It looked like things were getting better. He looked off toward the building-access doors and raised his eye brows passively. He needed to talk to the Lieutenant about the Hospital. He still had a mission.

"Hey Lieutenant, can I talk to you?" Mason stepped into the room where the Lieutenant was setting up an HQ and the Lieutenant looked at him. "I'm only here because we were picking up a bus to transport some people out of the city." Mason shrugged. "Those people are still stuck in their original position."

"I'm listening." The Lieutenant crossed his arms; concerned.

"They're stuck in the Trail County Medical Center down-town. There's approximately thirty people. Men, women, and children of all ages. There's a cop armed with a single gun protecting them. It took all hell for us to get out of there."

"I'm sorry man, but I can't spare the man-power right-"

"Just have one of your big pieces of metal support us and we'll get them on that bus. We made it here and we can make it back." Mason crossed his arms and nodded confidently.

"Well," The Lieutenant thought for a moment, then nodded as Tyler and Aaron walked in, "ok. But if it looks like you're too late, don't get out of your vehicle. I know this sounds harsh, but you can't risk yourself over a lost cause. Its not worth it."

"You got it." Mason nodded; turning to Tyler. "Hey buddy-" Tyler hit him in his wounded shoulder and Mason's face twisted in pain. "A-h! What the fuck?!"

"You're an asshole!" Tyler said sternly. "You almost got all of us killed!"

"What the fuck are you talking about? I got us in touch with the real Army!" Mason pointed at Lieutenant Anderson and shook his head. Tyler stared at him; unimpressed. "Ok, ok," Mason nodded, "it did look pretty bad when that chopper was coming in." He motioned to all the action going on around him. "But look where it got us."

"Are they going to go back to the Hospital?" Aaron asked curiously; breaking the argument between his two friends. He'd gotten to know a few of the people he'd been trapped with and was beginning to worry if they'd make it back to them on time.

"I'll lend you one Stryker ICV with a mounted 50 cal. But like I told him," Lieutenant Anderson pointed at Aaron and Tyler, "Do not put yourself, or my crew into unnecessary danger. Do not get out of your vehicles. Do you understand?" Both Aaron and Tyler nodded. "Ok then." The Lieutenant shrugged. "I'll let them know that they'll be supporting you."

While things were being organized, Mason and the gang learned the gravity of the situation. Nearly all Platoons and Companies of the U.S. Armed forces that had initially been deployed to handle the "Situation" had deteriorated down to nothing. Save for Platoon-sized forces supported by Air-Power and Armor, almost all contact with active National Guard units had been severed. It wasn't until reports of National Guard units "cleansing" cities and towns that the Rear Echelon leaders decided it was time to call up Federal-Troops and put an end to what they considered an "Up-Rising."

The situation for Federal-Troops wasn't good either though. Most Military bases in the country had been overrun or devastated to the point that they were inoperable. The only operable base in California was the Marine Corps Base on Paris Island. In the past 48 hours it had been abandoned and all of its resources relocated to Grand Forks Air Force Base in North Dakota, and Minot Air Force base in North Dakota. The mid-west was the only part of the country where any progress was being made. Its highly-rural set-up helped immeasurably. The Army, supported by the Marine-Corps and Air-Force had taken advantage by fortifying small towns and using them as Forward Operating bases. It was the only thing that seemed to be working at all. It wasn't solving the problem, but it was giving the Military something to work with.

"So what made you set your sights on Pembleton?" Tyler asked Lieutenant Anderson curiously. "Its not exactly a small-town is it?" The Name "Grand-Forks" made Tyler's skin tingle. When he was growing up in Hallock Minnesota, that was where he'd go to the movies, take a girl on a date, or just chill out. He'd been there many times. If the Military had moved a lot of resources there, then maybe that meant things were ok there.

"This is the first large city we've decided to move on." Lieutenant Anderson hesitated; looking over his shoulder as more nameless troops walked passed the H.Q. doorway. They were arriving in Squads now; ready for battle. "They're going to drop massive amounts of resources in here to attempt to regain some ground, and hopefully extra resources in return. This city has a water-way, fuel, and usable products without being too much to handle. They'd looked at Chicago, but our forces would have been overwhelmed. Once the Air-force gets on its feet again completely, then they'll start looking there… if they don't just decided to blow the whole place to hell."

"Right." Tyler nodded. "So what's the situation in the area surrounding Grand Forks Air Force base? Is it bad?"

"Look," Lieutenant Anderson said in a quiet, but serious tone, "It's bad everywhere. Anyone who was a hippy, or a liberal do-gooder is dead and its because they thought self-defense was stupid and immoral. If you ask me… I think everyone should just hop on a cruise ship and take a vacation until these fuckers just rot into nothing." He let out a sigh and shook his head. "I think we can win this thing, but we're getting weaker every day, and they're getting stronger every day. Its scary." He shrugged.

"Ok, thanks." Tyler ran his hand through his curly blond hair and scratched his beard. He had to go home, regardless of what anyone said. There was no question about it. Every waking minute, it was all he could think about.

"Roger that." Lieutenant Anderson said into his radio and he looked at Mason. "The Stryker is ready when you are."

"Awesome, thanks." Mason nodded and looked at his compatriots. "You guys ready?"

Aaron felt a flood of confidence as he looked at the Stryker pulled up behind him. He was sitting in the driver's seat of the Humvee. Mason gave him the thumbs up before mounting the Humvee's M240B; he was just one more level of support in case things went awry. A few seconds later the convoy began to roll; The big yellow bus leading the way. It was five minutes to the Hospital. This time the tension would be low, and the payback would be high.

* * *

Tyler looked around casually as he took his first left turn on pavement with the Yellow-Rocket. It was nice to not have all the hostages on board with him. They made him feel like he was responsible for them all and that was a heavy load. That wasn't the best part though. The best part was seeing that Stryker Armored Support Vehicle in his rear-view mirror. There would be no fear of masses, or National Guard troops anymore. The only fear was a stall, or an accident. It wouldn't be beyond reality with all the vehicles abandoned here and there. He let that idea escape his mind. He'd made it with the LMV without too much hell. All he had to do was be a little more careful. After all, the bus was about three times the length of the LMV.

* * *

Mason felt no fear, or worry as the wind hit him in the face. A belt-fed machinegun was enough support for him. The Stryker was just frosting on the cake. He puffed on the cigarette hanging from his lips as his eyes energetically scanned the debris and carnage of what was once a thriving city. Every few seconds he'd see two or three corpses wandering through a yard, but they weren't a concern. The concern would be the waves and waves of them on the streets of down-town and the hordes pushing to make their way inside the Hospital. He smiled to himself calmly. What would the dead bastards do? Would they wander aimlessly to the Stryker and tip it on its side? It wasn't possible. The Rolling Piece of Armor would blow them to shreds before the idea even crossed their one-dimensional minds.

Mason cracked his back and snickered at the idea as he stretched his arms carelessly. He couldn't wait to throw a couple hundred bullets at the grimy-fuckers. He loved the way they seemed to pop when he shot them. It wasn't like deer-hunting. A deer would get shot, and the blood would pour out in a calm, conservative sort of way. The corpses? They seemed to be just waiting to bleed. Their heads were the most fun though. When that bullet went through their softening little cranium it was like Niagara falls with red food-coloring.

"Hey, can you guys hear me, or do I have to change the channel again?" Tyler's voice; consumed with static, came through Aaron's radio. Aaron snatched it off of the receiver and put it to his face.

"Hey, I can just barely hear you. What's it look like up there?"

Tyler stared at the street; hesitating before he replied to Aaron's question. Everything looked the same, but it was getting dark. He wasn't looking forward to a violent battle that was going to take place in the pitch black streets.

"Its… crowded." Tyler said uncomfortably though the CB. "Otherwise it's the same as before. I'm not going to worry until I have to, it's a waste of-" Tyler stopped mid-sentence. Before him was what he had been waiting for. The dead, in a scattered mass, were approaching. He could see their empty eyes watching him. He stopped the bus and put the CB to his mouth. "Ok, they're all over the place. Get the fuck up here and see what you can do."

"Hey," Aaron looked back at Mason as Mason crouched into the cab of the vehicle, "He wants us to pass him and clear them out. I guess there's a bunch of them."

"Fucking right." Mason said cockily with a confident nod. "We'll take point. Radio the Stryker and let them know to follow behind us."

"Roger that." Aaron nodded; picking up the radio.

Mason rose through the turret again; turning to the Stryker and giving it the thumbs up. Before he could turn back around, the Hummer took off and passed the bus. Mason tossed his smoked cigarette to the street and stuck a pinch of Copenhagen Long cut into his lip; grabbing the grip of the M240B and setting his finger on the trigger. "Payback time." He spit a stream of tobacco-juice to his side and leaned forward.

* * *

Tyler watched as Aaron spun around him and Mason opened up with the Belt-fed M240B. It was strange. Tyler watched Mason as he fired. The emotion painted on his best friend's face was a confusing display of loss and turmoil that could not be explained by words. He was sure he could hear Mason's roar over the machinegun's muzzle blasts. It was a roar to God, and a cry to those who had lost their lives through the entire ordeal.

Tyler sat back and let out a tired sigh as he stared ahead. The mass didn't seem to be disintegrating even as he watched countless numbers of them seemed to fall under the direct fire of Mason's medium-machinegun It seemed with every body that fell, another rose from the shadows to replace it, or the one that went down got back up. As he looked at Aaron's Humvee, the Stryker rolled passed it. It came to a halt not twenty feet in front of the bus and its remote-operated M2HB Heavy Machine gun began to fire with a mighty-roar.

Tyler's face became blank as he watched the .50 Caliber machinegun do its business. The heavy rounds seemed to do more than their fair share of work. With every round that was thrown out, it seemed to drop at least three corpses. In unison with Mason's M240B, the mass seemed to finally begin to die down partially, and Aaron's Humvee rolled forward before the mass could recover. Tyler just let out a sigh. What an immoral show.

* * *

"I got this shit covered." Mason snickered as the Hummer began to roll over the bodies they'd knocked down. Even with all the large-caliber bullets flying around; most of the bodies seemed to still be moving. Yet, what a ridiculous show of force. Mason sneered as he let out another burst of fire at a wandering group of the dead.

"Fuck you and die." Mason grunted as his burst of forty-rounds cut the corpses to the ground. He felt no pity. There was simply no mercy to feel for such wastes of space in the world. How could he feel sad, or wrong? They'd come into his world and feasted on children, seniors, and innocent men and women of a working-class nation. Was it wrong for him to feel rage and hatred toward them? He couldn't imagine that being just. He was no hippy, no liberal "victim." He was a man of the world, the real world. Not a useless pile of waste that made up excuses for his shortcomings and was incapable of taking care of his own well-being.

Mason let loose another barrage of fire as the convoy continued to roll forward. He thought of Nanci Pelosi as his M240B roared. She had begged for the restriction of firearms to Law-abiding men; hoping she could control Americans like sheep. He let out another deep and callused roar as he fired. He imagined Ted Kennedy and Janet Reno demanding reformed gun-laws; stating that law-abiding men were the cause of social-violence and school shootings. He watched the bullets making impact and destroying the bodies of his enemies, and the enemies of man. The convoy rolled on. It wasn't the gun that was the enemy of man. Mason spat a stream of tobacco-juice. It was those restricting the rights of men to defend themselves. They were in hell now. Begging for mercy.

The convoy took a last left and Aaron's eyes scanned as they rolled up on he block nearing the Hospital-Grounds. It didn't look too bad; just the same as last time. There was an uncountable horde massed at the front doors; making their push to penetrate the inside of the secured part of the building, but they were getting nowhere. He let out a sigh as he kept his foot riding evenly on the accelerator. Maybe things could go perfectly right even in this God-Forsaken world.

Tyler's eyes didn't go straight for the front entrance. They were drawn to the emergency-exit. He could tell something was going on by the massive movements of the undead horde that had grown outside the single door. His eyes became wide and terrified as he saw the worst possible reality. The door was propped opened and the dead were swarming in.

"They're fucking going in- the mother fuckers- waste the fucks!!!!" Tyler's voice roared over the radio in broken sentences and Mason's eyes searched the courtyard. It took no less than a moment for Mason to see what Tyler was screaming about over the radio and he let the M240B talk. His face twisted as the M240B blasted; He held the aim on the emergency-exit; letting a stream of relentless fire flow out. His heart-beat climbed and his sweat poured out as he held the trigger down; blowing corpses to the ground in bloody pink-mists. A moment later; the Stryker joined and the M240B went dry. Mason ducked into the cab of the Humvee.

Tears came out of Tyler's eyes as he realized the situation. Every person he'd come to save was most-likely dead and he could do nothing about it. His heart skipped a beat as Aaron's voice came over the radio.

"Mason's going in!" Aaron's voice said excitedly. "He won't listen to me!" Tyler looked through the left-window of the bus as Mason took off toward the Hospital. Tyler just swore as he raised the M1014 from the floor beside him. Liz's face kept flowing through his mind. If anyone was going to be saved, it was going to be her. He didn't give a shit what he had to do. He opened the bus-door and jumped out onto the street. He took a left around the nose of the bus in a dead-sprint; his eyes dancing back and forth. The dead were recovering from Mason and the Stryker's barrage of fire. He had to be fast before-

The Stryker opened up with its .50 Caliber M2HB Heavy Machinegun again and Aaron's voice roared over the blast as the bullets flew passed him; impacting and annihilating flesh and bone.

"Tyler!" Aaron yelled and Tyler turned to him. Aaron threw him his M-4 and Tyler caught it. "We've got you covered!" Tyler nodded and turned back to the doorway. He was out of time.

Mason skidded to a halt before he hit the jammed-open Hospital Emergency-Exit. He carefully avoided the bodies on the ground and stepped into doorway with the M249 shouldered and instantly began firing. His legs shook from adrenaline and fear as he fought the M249's muzzle from climbing. The dead seemed to be wedged into the hall before him. There were so many in the cramped little hallway that it looked like they could hardly move; at least not until they took notice of Mason. The whole army of them seemed to swell in his direction as his gun registered in the air. His eyes widened and his hands tensed on the pistol-grip and forearm of his weapon. He jumped in surprise as Tyler stepped up beside him and began firing the Benelli at them.

Mason swore as the M249 clicked empty. He and Tyler stepped back as the flood of the dead moved toward them; now not more then twenty-feet away. Mason's hand went for his USP, but he felt nothing in his holster. His eyes widened as they went to it. He'd given his pistol to that kid! He looked up toward the door. All they had to do was coax the bastards into the open and let the Stryker take care of them. That would fix this little jam.

"Here!" Tyler slammed Aaron's M-4 into Mason's chest. "Take it! I don't have any ammo for it!"

Mason nodded as he grabbed the M-4 and went straight to shooting. He fired about half of the magazine into the group, backing up Tyler's Benelli Fire, and he slapped Tyler on the shoulder excitedly. The dead were coming through the doorway.

"Let the Stryker hit them!" Mason grabbed Tyler by the arm and they ran out of the Stryker's line of fire. From there; it was just a matter of seconds.

The Stryker's .50 machinegun roared once more, this time with what seemed like endless corpses stepping into its line of fire as it demobilized targets one after another; blowing soft-ball sized holes into corpse-bodies and removing limbs left and right. The gun fired for about half a minute before it halted; the dead still exiting the building.

"He's gotta be dry." Tyler grunted, aiming his Benelli again. The M240B on Aaron's Hummer interrupted him; throwing smaller, but seemingly effective amounts of lead into the disintegrating mass as they exited the doorway. By the time Aaron went dry, there was little movement, just that eerie silence they'd come to know so well.

"Let's kick it baby." Mason said confidently as he moved forward with the M-4 up and ready. Tyler was a half step behind; scanning everything through the Ghost-Ring sights of his semi-automatic shotgun. Before they began stepping through the piles of motionless corpses on the grass, Mason stopped.

"I'm not taking the fucking risk of one of these assholes playing possum." Mason spat; pulling a hand-grenade from his vest. He pulled the pin and looked at Tyler before letting the handle fly off of it. "Ready to run?"

"Oh yeah." Tyler said coolly. "Light em' up."

As Tyler trotted away, Mason let the spoon fly off of the grenade and he threw it under-hand into mostly motionless pile of chewed-up meat. He turned around and ran behind the Stryker; waiting patiently for the boom. A moment later; he got what he'd wanted. The explosion echoed off the side of the building and Mason grinned heartlessly as the bodies were tossed and shredded even more than before. He peaked around the Stryker, expecting nothing, and aimed the M-4. To his surprise, a single corpse was wandering stupidly through the door. Mason squeezed the trigger and the bullet punched a tiny hole in the corpse's forehead; blowing a chunk of the back of his skull onto the floor behind him. He fell forward and Mason turned to Tyler.

"Let's move." Mason spat a stream of tobacco and darted forward with the M-4 up and ready. He moved quickly with Tyler close behind; weary of the corpses lying on the ground, but more concerned with doorway coming toward them. He paused when he saw figures moving around aimlessly and as he looked through the Acog sight, Tyler passed him quickly.

"What the fuck man?!" Mason barked; irritated. Tyler didn't look back. He charged through the doorway and Mason smirked humorously as Tyler began a savage cleansing.

Tyler's teeth were clenched with rage as he began to shoot. It was strange how natural the whole thing had become. Having a gun, counting your ammo, being aware of how many rounds you'd fired. It had become a part of him; for better or worse. He began firing as precisely and rapidly as he possibly could. The sights helped. As long as that front post was inside the rear circle; boom. A head would explode. It was almost rhythmic; boom, boom, boom. Tyler took them down left and right; only misfiring once before the weapon clicked empty. He aggressively drew his Glock; aiming to do a little more precise punishment. Mason stepped up beside him and slapped him on the shoulder energetically. He couldn't let Tyler have all the fun.

Mason casually began firing aimed, semi-automatic rounds down the tight corridor. He was irritated when the rounds didn't impact on the exact area he was aiming it. He grumbled inaudible words when he'd aim at an eye-socket and hit a cheekbone; or at the center forehead and hit the side of the forehead. He knew he wasn't swaying much. He was accustomed to firing while standing. It was the damn mil-spec trigger on the gun. He shot a young man in the temple and let the gun down; staring at it as Tyler sent a few bullets out from his Glock.

"You're gun break or something?" Tyler raised an irritated eye brow as he put a fresh magazine in. He wasn't irritated at Mason exactly, it was the whole situation. Mason being finicky about something just added to the annoyance and bad vibe of the whole thing.

"Nah, the Government is just so fucking gay and uptight about everything. I keep getting bad shots cause of the shitty trigger." Mason parched his lips and shook his head as he aimed again.

Tyler just stared at him. Mason's mind was changing. He'd read about this shit before. The experience of death and killing was taking such an impact on the young man, that he was putting all of his focus on ridiculous and irrelevant things that didn't matter. It was Mason's minds' best effort to keep him from collapsing over the guilt and sorrow caused by horrendous experiences. Tyler had felt the same thing coming on slightly, but through self-coping and self-coaching he had been able to deal with it, and at least partially accept what he'd done as necessary-evil. It was stuff he couldn't have helped. Not in the modern world.

"Dude," Tyler said in a low, raspy voice, "let's just keep moving." He stared at Mason uneasily and Mason nodded.

"Fuck yeah, dude. I'm ready to kick this shit."

"Right." Tyler nodded. "Let's get this done."

They moved forward as one. The dead weren't strategic about their placement; stepping out of a room randomly and stretching their arms out excitedly. A small burst or a single round ended the threat every time; causing nothing but emotion to rise even more so than before and another wandering soul to be added to the kill-count of each young man.

"Fucking aye." Mason groaned as he stepped into the lunch-room doorway. A limited number of corpses were scattered throughout the room; eating what was left of faceless, innocent people. Tyler stepped up beside him and his breathing became ragged and desperate.

"Motherfuckers." Tyler spat; putting rounds in his Benelli. As he reloaded, Mason brought his gun up with a scowl on his face. He didn't even aim. He held the trigger and swayed the barrel of the M-4 back and forth; spraying 30 fresh rounds out and hitting the corpses randomly on their bodies. As bullets impacted their torso's, forearms, and shoulders, they didn't even look up from their meals. They just shook from the impacts and continued to eat.

"Fucking move." Tyler squeezed passed Mason and aimed the Benelli. He looked through the Ghost-Ring sights and fired; aiming slowly and precisely this time. It was horrendous. He'd shoot one in the face, and it would fall backwards from its sitting position unnoticed by the others. The effectiveness of the buckshot was noteworthy. When the tiny ball-bearing impacted, a spray of chunky gore would reign upon everything near. Tyler just continued to fire as Mason watched their back's. He ravaged them, one by one, until all that was left was twitching bodies; incapable of doing any more destruction. When the room was silent, Mason put his hand on Tyler's shoulder.

"That's it man…" Mason swallowed hard and shook his head. "We did our best. You can't do more than that, you know?" He'd done his best to not think of why they were here and why they were so intent on destroying the corpses in this building. He filtered out the faces of the people he'd come to save the best he could; disregarding the little girl who'd innocently asked him questions, and the mother who had so courteously mouthed him a thank-you. He didn't want it to sink in now, or ever. He just wanted to move on without the guilt of the reality taking permanent residence in his overwhelmed mind. He'd done so many things in the past week that he didn't want to relive. He wasn't sure he could forgive himself.

No." Tyler said flatly; staring at what was left of the entire surviving group. It was just mush; ravaged flesh and faceless bodies. "I'm not done until everything in this wing has been punished." He looked at Mason with empty eyes. "I'm killing everything."

"Yeah." Mason said sternly; slapping hands confidently with his best friend and nodding hard. "Let's do this shit, no fucking mercy."

They left the Lunch-Room doorway and approached the Nurse's desk. It was pretty much lifeless; but the hallway to where the LMV was once parked was inhabited by sporadic numbers of the dead that picked their hanging heads up as Mason and Tyler walked into view.

"Fucking prick-bastards." Tyler said dryly; stepping up to one of them as it excitedly turned toward him. He stuck the barrel of the Benelli right up to its face and pulled the trigger. The head recoiled as it was blown back by the 00-Buckshot round; the flesh and bone shattered and shredded. It almost looked like a fat-man's belly; shaking like a bowl full of jelly as the round impacted. It fell to the ground and Tyler turned to the rest of them. "Let's see how you like this."

Mason stepped up beside Tyler and a gulf of fire opened up. Mason emptied his M-4, and Tyler screamed as the twelve gauge spewed it's buckshot. Blood spewed onto the walls, ceiling, and floor as bullets and tiny ball-bearings made impact; shattering bones, and mashing brain matter like it were a natural occurrence. With smoking barrels and empty chambers, Mason and Tyler looked at each other. Tyler took a deep breath and slung his Benelli over his chest; shaking his head.

"You know, I don't think this was in our hands…" Tyler shrugged. He looked over the mess and took a deep breath.

"I don't really know anymore." Mason said quietly. "Maybe nothing is in our hands."

"I kind of… felt alive doing something for other people." Tyler smiled weakly. "I felt like I was making up for every bad choice I'd ever made." He looked at his feet; feeding fresh rounds into the shotgun. "Maybe if we'd been just a few minutes faster."

"Yeah, or-"

Mason was interrupted by the sound of a door being opened behind the Nurse's desk. His eyes snapped to it and his jaw dropped opened. The mother of the little girl he'd talked to in the lunch-room poked her head out.

"We're in here!" She sobbed.

Mason's heartbeat picked up a notch. It hadn't been a waste after all.

Tyler scanned the group of stubborn survivors as they exited the tiny room behind the Nurse's desk. He was looking desperately for Liz. He hoped to God she could be one of those few. They were such a small group compared to the one that had previously taken refuge in the lunch-room. If only they'd done more to protect them. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. The beautiful physique of an athletic girl stepped out of that tiny room with an infant in her arms. Tyler felt his arms go weak and a slap on the back. He looked over his shoulder.

"Well there you go buddy," Mason motioned toward Liz, "God always does the right thing for his messengers."

Tyler nodded at Mason's words and he casually walked up to her; feeling bashful as her saw her terrified, yet relieved tears.

"I'm sorry." Tyler said honestly as he stepped up to Liz and looked into her eyes. She shifted her child in her arms and tipped her head thoughtfully as she wiped them with her free hand.

"For what? You saved us." Liz's eyes burned into him and Tyler blushed.

"I'm sorry we weren't here sooner." He stared quietly at her and she reached her hand out and squeezed his arm.

"You got here just in time." More tears ran out of her eyes and Tyler nodded. She was right. They'd done what they could under the given circumstances. He turned to Mason. The lone ranger was staring blankly at the people gathering nervously in the openness of the hall.

"Mason!" Tyler barked; bringing Mason's gaze to him. "We just won a fucking battle. Let's get these people out of here."

"You got it." Mason nodded; his sprits lifted and his motivation reinstated. "People!" Mason said loudly; noticing sadly that Lance was nowhere in sight. "Keep your fucking eyes open and follow me! We're getting the hell out of Dodge!"

The ride back to the school was the same as before. The Stryker provided the necessary fire-support while the Bus and the Humvee escaped beyond the reaches of the masses of the undead unscathed. When the vehicles reached the school-grounds, all there was to do was celebrate. Tyler watched in the rear-view of the bus as people hugged, laughed and cried. It was that much more exciting when the back of the bus opened, and soldiers were there to greet them and escort them to the safety of the school.

Tyler climbed off the bus and watched as Liz walk into the building as the Humvee pulled up beside him and Mason and Aaron jumped out. Mason walked up and put his arm sarcastically around Tyler's shoulder; staring at the darkened horizon.

"And all…" Mason trailed off, "because he was taunted by the thrill of death." Mason snickered as Tyler threw a fist at him and he ducked away childishly.

"No seriously dude." Mason's tone changed to honesty and his face showed it. "You don't need me to tell you that you had some real balls through that whole thing. You're the fucking man."

"Hey!" Aaron said loudly with a hint of humor in his voice. "What about me ya douche? I was like… Denzel Washington in 'Training Day.' "It was amazing… really." He started laughing along with Mason and Tyler shook his head passively.

"Ok kids." Tyler said in a high-pitched, extremely sarcastic tone. "Let's go inside ya fuckin' homos."

Both Aaron and Mason snickered as they followed Tyler into the school. There was plenty going on in every direction. It seemed every room was being used for something important; from Medical-room to Operations-room. It was a real sight. They walked to the intersection of halls where the stairs were located and were stopped by the loud voice of Lt. Anderson.

"Well thank you so much for listening to my orders." Anderson stepped out of the main office with a look of discontent on his face. He crossed his arms and stared at Mason. "You got ADHD or something?"

"Well," Mason smiled coyly, "yes sir, in fact I do." He laughed as Anderson shook his head with a hesitant smile of his own.

"Well next time, its not going to be my call. My rank is being stepped on. A man named Captain Sorenson will be taking my place. So if you're looking for resources from now on, I'm not going to be able to give them to you without his word." He slapped Mason on the shoulder. "So allow me to go and tell him what a fucking-splendid job you did out there boys. Fourteen refugees is a good number."

"Refugees?" Aaron's neck straightened "This is starting to sound like a campaign to stop hunger in the Congo. Don't do it!" He yelled in a cartoon-ish voice. "The man on the T.V. is eating all the food!" When everyone raised their eye brows Aaron shrugged and kicked the floor. "Yeah I dunno."

"Anyway," The Lieutenant snickered, "I'll let Captain Sorenson know what valuable assets you are and I'll see to it that every time you step out that door, you have the assets required to do whatever you have to do. The more men like you we have around, the better."

"Fuck yeah!" Mason nodded excitedly and his eyes went to Tyler. Tyler was staring at him dully. Staying with the military hadn't been in the cards and Tyler didn't want any part of it; save for the confidence and security. "Wait," Mason said flatly, "we can't stay here Anderson. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Anderson crossed his arms and raised a confused eye brow. The men before him had done extraordinary things in the past twelve hours. They hadn't appeared to be the type to duck out.

"I've gotta get these guys home." Mason shrugged; accepting the truth and his responsibility to his friends. "I promised."

"I see." Anderson let his head droop slightly. He needed all the manpower he could get, but he could see where Mason and Tyler were coming from. Family was number one when you had it. "You're not leaving now are you? A dark, dead-infested Urban Jungle isn't really the kind of place you want to be naked in after dark."

"What do you think?" Mason looked at Tyler and Aaron. They'd been accomplishing tasks both physically and mentally straining all day. They all knew they needed the rest and having 360 degree security in their place of shelter was a much better haven than a dark, secluded field or roadway.

"Rest." Aaron and Tyler agreed. They needed the sleep, the food, and the social interaction with people. There was no use risking mental incapacitation, at least not in the environment outside the wire. They knew they'd be put through more tests soon enough. Rushing was pointless.

"Well they've got cots set up in the gymnasium, and the showers in the locker-room are running thanks to the Guard unit that was here before us. And there's chow too. Its just MRE's, but if you're low on energy it's the perfect thing." He took a deep breath and shrugged. "Make yourselves at home." Mason, Tyler, and Aaron all thanked Lieutenant Anderson, but as he was about to walk away he stopped and looked at them again. "Let me know when you're leaving so I can see you off." They all agreed and said goodnight to their uniformed friend; thanking God they'd come to the school before the Helicopter had done its work. It was time for rest and relaxation though, so they set their sights on the gymnasium.

CHAPTER 13

The in-between

"It's the constant and determined effort that breaks down all resistance and sweeps away all obstacles." -Claude M. Bristol

With little else to worry about Mason, Tyler, and Aaron walked tiredly into the gymnasium still wearing all of their gear. They felt a lot of eyes on them as they found an area with enough cots to fit all three of them, and in a obvious expression of relief, they all sat down and looked at each other with genuine appreciation. It was at that moment, Aaron noticed all the new faces in the Gym. There were people he'd never been with in the hospital, and people he hadn't seen while doing their oh-so daring hostage-rescue.

"Hey," Aaron hit Tyler in the arm, "look at all the other people. Were they here before?" They obviously weren't in the military. They were battered, tired-looking people who were doing the same as the three young comrades; just looking to get some rest.

"I don't know." Tyler said in a quiet voice. He turned to Mason. "Did you notice all the new faces?"

"The what?" Mason was brought out of his emotionless stare and looked at Tyler with raised eye brows." He hadn't put much effort into looking over the people. His brain was too overworked to worry about it.

"All the fucking people man." Tyler grunted impatiently. "Look at them all." He motioned to all of the unfamiliar faces and Mason nodded coolly.

"Yeah, weird." Mason shrugged; looking off toward a couple of soldiers that were coming out of the boys' locker-room attached to the gymnasium. "Hey guys, come here a second!" As they approached, music began to blare from the small stage at the side of the vast room. Someone was trying to make things more civil; bringing a look of discontent to Tyler's face.

"What's going on?" A very tall, athletic-looking black soldier looked down at Mason. Mason pointed at all the people and tipped his head curiously.

"Where did all these new faces come from? Did they come with you guys?"

"Uh, yeah," The soldier said "yeah" in that cliché black-guy way, but he did it in such a smooth, cool way that Mason couldn't help but grin, "We flew them in from the court-house here in town. They were trapped on the roof. Then I guess some of them were, uh, out in the country some place,. I don't know. They keep flying in little groups from all over the place." He shrugged.

"Thanks buddy." Mason and the soldier nodded at each other and the soldier walked away. Mason turned to Tyler and shrugged, but before he could say anything Liz walked up and in an instant, Tyler was standing.

"Hey." Tyler said energetically; careless to the fact that Mason and Aaron were staring at him.

"Hey-" Liz said nervously. She was shaking. "I didn't think you were going to come back." She began to cry and Tyler hesitated. He wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure how. He hated this part of being interested in people.

"I'm sorry…" Tyler rubbed her shoulder; shy and nervous as she stared at him with teary eyes. "We tried to come back fast, but-" He swallowed hard, "But we just couldn't get there in time."

"Come with me." Liz said in a soft, hesitant voice. She grabbed Tyler by the hand and his cheeks turned red as he looked at Mason. Mason just nodded; motioning to go on with a sway of his head.

"Ok." Tyler ran his free hand through his hair. He needed this. He needed to hang out with someone who wasn't blasting dead-peoples' brains out. His dad was one to always say "Keep your head in the game" but he was also the guy who liked to say "Isn't one of the most fun parts about getting girls, the chase?" Tyler squeezed Liz's hand as they approached the area where she was set-up with some of the survivor's from the hospital. A part of him was at ease. Finally.

* * *

"You know one of the reasons this whole thing got out of control?" Mason said to Aaron from his cot; irritated. He was staring up at the gymnasium ceiling with his hands behind his head. He finally looked like a civilian with all of his equipment off and his gun off of his chest. "Because of this, err, that fucking recession we were in." He turned and looked at Aaron who was staring at him; not sure what Mason meant.

"Well yeah," Aaron shrugged, "and the fact that the president did his best right off the bat to fuck us all over by cutting our ammo-supply in half. The cops didn't even have enough bullets and that asshole thought it was ok!" Aaron shook his head; he hated Socialists.

"No shit, but I'm not talking about that." Mason agreed with Aaron's point. The President had surely hindered the ability of the Military and the American people to defend themselves with new gun-laws and ammunition-restrictions before the outbreak, but that wasn't the issue. "Since this recession started, thousands of people became homeless. They started living in those tent-cities and all of that, you know what I mean? Those people had nowhere to run. Do you think they even knew what was going on? Definitely not on the first day, and maybe, just maybe they knew on the second day." He rubbed his nose and looked back at the ceiling. "Who knows how many of them were killed; completely ignored by the media and the middle and upper classes… assholes."

"That's why I'm libertarian." Aaron shrugged; ripping open an MRE he'd gotten while entering the big, open gymnasium. "If there were no rules, no laws, and no restrictions, then people would have popped these fuckers right from the start." He looked at Mason excitedly with wide eyes. "And we all would have had Machineguns!" He started laughing and trailed off. "God damn National Firearms Act."

"No shit." Mason yawned. He'd probably fall asleep soon. He just had to make sure he didn't focus on anything. If he started thinking about anything he'd done this week, he knew he'd never calm down enough to even get a nap in. He relaxed and started trying to remember all the last movies he'd seen in the theatre from most recent to most distant. He felt his body begin to calm itself and rest begin to set in.

"Holy shit!"

Mason sprung up at the excited sound of Aaron's voice; shooting his gaze this way and that. "What, what, what!?" Mason stammered; not seeing any corpses anywhere.

"Alcohol!" Aaron pointed to the furthest away gymnasium exit-door. A soldier was wheeling in boxes of Beer like he'd just hit the barley-pop lottery. Mason's mouth dropped open and he leaned forward slowly. He never thought he'd see Beer again in his life. And what kind was it? He gasped in amazement. It was Dos Equies.

"Aaron…" Mason smirked coolly; looking at his pal. "That shit is going to be ours… period."

"I'm down." Aaron stood up from his cot and stretched with a yawn. He bent over, poked his MRE that was warming in its water-activated, self-heating pouch and nodded. "Yeah, this'll be perfect. Grab a box of brew, come back and chow down on my "shit ready to eat" and then crash." He snickered. "I hope I don't say anything totally unnecessary."

"Oh, I hope you do." Mason smacked him on the shoulder as he walked by him. "Ready to commence "Operation beer Schmeckler."

* * *

Tyler stared at his clasped hands as Liz spoke. She had explained what had happened. All they'd heard was Chase's scream and they'd acted on instinct from there. Some of the people had been too scared to move. Some of them hadn't been able to fit in the small room they'd hid in. They'd been trapped in the little room with Lance's body for more than an hour when the shooting started. She assured Tyler that everyone thought of him, Mason, and Aaron as heroes. After all, they'd come to the rescue.

Tyler didn't know what to say. As much as his heart wanted to allow a flow of pride and self-satisfaction, his mind would not allow it. With every word of gratitude and love, came a feeling of contempt and guilt. He'd killed people. Real, live people. People who under different circumstances may have been his friends, or coworkers. He didn't feel like crying, or screaming out at God anymore. He didn't feel like punching anyone, or starting anything on fire. All he felt was an odd sickness taking over his entire being; creeping through him slowly with an empty tingling that words could not explain. He felt his entire body begin to tremble and sweat began to run down his forehead. He clenched his eyes shut and he felt Liz's hands squeeze his arms.

"Don't cry, please." Liz said in a soft, pleading voice. She let out a scared laugh and shook her head. "If you do, then I'll cry harder." She leaned forward and hugged him.

Tyler let out a relieved sigh and the tears flowed from his eyes silently. He hugged her back as firmly as he could; pulling her into his chest. The release was bliss. He felt the sickness, the emptiness inside him fizzle away. It was a euphoria of feelings he wasn't sure existed. He let himself relax and exhaled a deep breath. Even through the darkest, dirtiest buildings, light always found a way to shine through the cracks. Life was one of those buildings. Liz was one of those cracks.

* * *

Mason finished a beer and set the empty bottle at his feet. It hadn't taken much to get the soldier to let him and Aaron take a box over to their sleeping area. Mason had just told the soldier how well he knew Lieutenant Anderson and what exactly Mason and his crew had done that day and the soldier had handed it over. Of course, to be polite, Mason had told the soldier to join them. He'd passed politely. He was on duty.

"You know what's fucking terrible nowadays?" Mason said as he lit a cigarette and shook his head. "How like… really, really young girls dress like they're hookers." Aaron snickered and Mason shrugged. "No, I'm serious. You know you'll be walking along in the mall or something, maybe scoping for single women, and some chick walks by. And you know, she looks good. And you say something like 'Wanna get down tonight baby?!' and suddenly you're being interrogated by the mall cop." He looked at Aaron dully and took a puff of his smoke. "If they're dressed like that, their parents shouldn't be all upset when some guy older than them pops a chub. It's fucking primal-urges and all of that shit. We can't help it." He shrugged; looking across the gym at some girls who were in a little group. "Now you see them?" Mason pointed at them and Aaron nodded; motioning that he'd like a cigarette. "You see if it were like, I don't know, the way it was before," He gave Aaron a smoke and lit the end; putting his sights back on the young-looking ladies, "I'd be like 'Hey, you're an adult right?' because you really can't tell. And that doesn't get you far with the smart ones."

"I don't like going out and getting into a relationship." Aaron said seriously; smoking his cigarette contently as he watched the girls. "I like strippers. You know why?" He looked at Mason and Mason shrugged. "Because it's a business transaction. In a business transaction you get the service you pay for. I give them the money, they give me the body. No need to bring emotions into it." He laughed quietly. "I like to get them to whip me with my belt. Its fucking awesome!" He just nodded as Mason laughed with a shake of his head.

"You are one seriously fucked up individual. Wouldn't you rather meet a chick you like, and think is hot and fuck her all the time for free?" Mason wrinkled his nose. "That's what I want. A hot chick, with the ability to take care of herself, that I can fuck all the time regardless of if I have 500 dollars for every half hour." Mason's eyes went to those young girls again. His body wanted sex; more sex than it had every wanted before. He took a deep breath and let it out slow. He didn't want to fan the flames and make a tent in his jeans.

"I'm not worried about it." Aaron shrugged; not noticing Mason's obvious discomfort. "If I can have fun in the V.I.P. room then I'm never in a bad mood. They can't fuck me over if I stop seeing them either. Like, they can't take my house, or my dog, or my car. It's all business. No bad feelings or contempt involved." He looked at Mason and Mason nodded.

"Well if we're lucky," Mason fought as he took another hard look at the girls, "There will be far more women left than men after this apocalypse and we'll be the most attractive guys left."

They both nodded in agreement and began to drink again. Cigarette smoke billowed from their area as they drank more and more barley-pop and began to get loud. They didn't have enough to get completely shit-faced, but they had enough to get obnoxious. It only took a half-hour for Mason to wander his way to the stage and wave at the guy running the shitty-selection of hip-hop music.

"Hey asshole," Mason shouted plainly, "you got any 'Boston' or maybe some 'Hendrix'?" Mason felt a hand on his waist and he turned with a scowl on his face.

"Aaron, that's not cool man-" Mason stopped; wordless as "Peace of mind" by "Boston" began to play over the speakers. He looked at the person who had their hand on his hip with wide, shocked eyes. Could it be possible?

"Oh my God," It was Aya, at least it seemed to be, but could Mason trust his now buzzed and ungodly tired mind? He hand went to his bandaged shoulder. "What happened to your shoulder!?"

Mason grabbed her by the belt-loops of her jeans and pulled her against him; ignoring her worries. He looked into her eyes with compassion, then kissed her. He held it, not caring if it was some sort of hallucination. All he cared was that it was a person, and he thought it was her. That was good enough for him under the circumstances. A moment later he let her go, and she looked at him in a half daze then smiled.

"I thought I told you to ask the next time you did that?"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Mason said; suddenly infuriated. "Leaving the fucking farm without us. This isn't some fucking civil-war where you can barter your way out of a bind with some cute words. You could have fucking died-" Mason paused. "I thought you were fucking dead. Everyone did!"

Mason watched her as Aya shifted uncomfortably; not acknowledging his point, but obviously considering the possibilities with her body-language. She looked at him with sad-eyes and slid her hands into her pockets; looking at the floor.

"I couldn't stand being alone. I kept thinking about everything. My family… my dad, my brother. I thought if I was persistent, driven, I could make it through anything."

"It almost made me snap," Mason pulled her against him again, "We left you with little fuel, little ammo, little anything. We left you in the shitter and it could have killed you. Do you know how guilty we felt?" A single tear ran down Aya's cheek and Mason wiped it away with his thumb; bringing his face close to hers. "I went crazy… I didn't care about anything. I just started killing everything, everyone… I did some shit I'm not sure that I should have done." The image of shooting the young soldier in the side of the head by the stairwell flashed through his mind and his stomach lurched. "I didn't know what to do."

"I'm sorry." Aya said softly and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back and kissed her on the side of the head. "I needed some answers. I just… didn't want to feel like I didn't even try to find my family." She cried as Mason held her.

"You're doing everything you can." Mason said softly; rubbing her back. "None of us can do this on our own. If we could we'd all have gone our separate ways by now." He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "If we want to find our families, then we need to stick together. We don't have a choice." He stared into her brown eyes and his lip trembled as he watched the tears ran down her cheeks. "Stop crying." He grinned; this time kissing her on the cheek. "Tell me what happened. I really gotta know."

* * *

Tyler wandered up from Liz's sleeping area; his eyes locked tiredly on Aaron. Mason was nowhere in sight. He walked up to his cot and sat down on it hard; noticing the extreme exhaustion that was overwhelming his senses.

"Where's Mason?" Tyler yawned; looking over to Liz's area and smiling as she looked over at him.

"Oh," Aaron shrugged; looking up from his disassembled M-4A1-Masterkey, "some girl walked up to him and they hugged and all of that stuff." He pointed over to a set of doors that was beside the stage. "They went in there." He looked back at the pieces of his rifle and continued to rub the carbon off of the bolt-assembly. "Shit, I really need some dry-lube or something."

"What did she looked like?" Tyler asked curiously; rubbing his now-bearded chin. He had no idea who the hell Mason would be talking to. He wasn't smooth with women; especially under pressure. There was only one possibility.

"Oh, I don't know," Aaron shrugged, "She was maybe 5' 5", nice wrack, tanned, pretty damn good-looking for a white chick. It kind of looked like he knew her." He didn't look up from his weapon. Even at the sound of Tyler's voice.

"No fucking way." Tyler shook his head. There was no way it could be Aya. If it was… then good for her and good for Mason. Mason's mind needed the positive vibe. But why the hell had they gone into the hallway? He rubbed his chin and shook his head. Who could be fucking in this kind of situation?

* * *

Mason listened quietly as Aya told the story. She'd made it a good distance with the nearly-empty squad-car almost to a small town south of Pembleton. When she'd run out of gas, she'd gone out on foot. It hadn't taken long for the corpses to sniff her out, but she was able to out-run them; just staying at the pace of a jog or fast walk. It wasn't until she heard a rifle-blast that she'd re-directed herself to a small farm-house just outside of the town. When she got there, she was welcomed with open-arms by a family of three. To her surprise, the father of the household had admitted he'd actually shot at her; not knowing she was alive. She'd stayed with them for several hours in the darkness of a home not nearly as protected as the one Mason and Tyler had taken the time to Armor-up. They'd had a ham-radio. One with very little range, and few variables to deal with. When the night had been drawing in, and military chatter had begun to rumble from the depths of the speakers, they'd been able to contact a man claiming to be from the army. The rest was just history. She'd ended up at the same place as Mason.

Mason stared at her silently. She was so… beautiful. He walked up to her and placed his hands on her hips. The only thing he could think of was how happy he was she was there. He pulled her up to his chest again and kissed her passionately. This time, the feeling of sensuality was present and undeniable. He took her by the hand and smiled at her.

"Come on, let's go somewhere else." Mason looked down the hall. There was a hall that turned right to a door that read "Janitor." Who would come looking for them?

* * *

"He'd better be getting a blow-job cause she was hot." Aaron laughed; looking off toward the set of doors Mason had disappeared through. He didn't really like white chicks, but that girl looked like something from an expensive porno.

"Yeah no shit." Tyler snickered; still doubtful. Who else could it be though? Mason usually scared girls into the darkened corners of a party-space when he decided to talk to them. But how could it really be her? It would have to be the direct will of God for it to happen. Tyler smirked. If this ray of sunshine could come true for the guy, than damn it if Tyler wouldn't congratulate him. Mason needed it after all. Just like everyone else needed a little motivation to carry on.

* * *

Mason ran his hand through Aya's hair. She was staring at him tiredly. They were both scantily clad on the floor of the Janitor's room; listening to "Aerosmith" drift half-assed through the closed door. Mason leaned down and kissed her and laid down on his back; looking up at the ceiling.

"The worst thing on my mind right now is the fact that you can't fit on my cot with me." Mason wrapped his arms around Aya; trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder, and she giggled as he kissed her neck.

"With enough blankets,: she said sensually, "we can figure something out." Aya writhed and laughed as Mason pinned her down and rubbed the stubble on his chin against her neck. She pushed him away and he grinned as he collapsed beside her.

"You know, it's pretty hot how you kept your socks on when we did that." Mason slapped her bare thigh and she gasped with a big smile. "Pretty cute."

"Yeah," Aya shrugged, "I kinda liked how you had nothing on." They kissed again and Mason sat up; looking at the door. "You know," he looked at her seriously, "We should probably go out there. I bet Tyler would be pretty happy to see you."

Aya sat up; looking for her pants. "Ok, I'm cool with that." She smiled at Mason and he beamed as he pulled his jeans on and found his t-shirt. "But no kiss and tell."

"Hey, don't even act like I'm going to talk about it." Mason grinned an evil grin. "It's not even worth talking about." She smacked him in the arm as he laughed sarcastically.

"You dirty fucker. That's the last time that happens." Aya pulled her t-shirt on and wiggled into her jeans; Shaking her head with a smile as Mason moved toward the door. He looked at her and frowned.

"You always like to be last don't you?" He grinned again as she flicked him off.

* * *

"Fucking country music," Tyler swore as "Garth Brooks" "I've got friends in low places" played through the stage-speakers. His spirits were picked up when he saw Mason approaching. He had his arm around Aya's waist. It was true; she'd made it. She smiled at Tyler and held her hand out as her and Mason stepped up to his cot.

"Hey honey." Aya said softy. Tyler grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight as he shook it.

"You are a miracle." Tyler shook his head. "A retarded one, but that's ok." He stared at her for a moment. A part of him felt kind of bad for leaving her at the farm-house alone. The should have known better. They were under pressure though and at the time, it had seemed like the right thing. All they could do was be thankful that she'd made it through alive.

"I wont do it again." Aya gave Tyler a thumbs-up; winking at him cutely. "Promise."

"Yeah, I trust you about as far as I could throw you." Tyler grinned. "But I bet I could throw you a good distance." Aya bit her lower lip and gave Tyler the middle finger; swinging her foot at him playfully as Aaron sat up a little straighter and looked at Mason with raise eye brows.

"Oh, shit!" Mason grunted apologetically; noting the look on Aaron's face. "Aya," Mason motioned to Aaron, who was grinning, "This is Aaron Riesen. He was one of the survivors in the Hospital. He's a good fucking shooter and he came in really handy when shit went south of Heaven."

"Hi, nice to meet you." Aaron nodded as he shook Aya's hand. Mason couldn't help but snicker. Aaron was usually being sick, or making a joke, but suddenly he was all polite and meek. It was weird what women could do to a man.

"Where the fuck did you guys get beer?!" Tyler suddenly said in a mix of shock and anger as he picked up an empty bottle; breaking yp the introduction Mason was politely giving Aaron. Tyler looked over to the head of Aaron's cot and spotted the big, mainly-empty beer- box. "You dirty fuckers!" He got up and marched to the box and pulled two bottles out; scowling at Mason. He wrapped the bottles in his arms and let out a monster-like hiss as he sat down and twisted the cap off of one. He drank it down with wide, defensive eyes and let out a pleased grumble as he rested the bottom of the bottle on his thigh.

"I swear he's a socio-path." Aaron said honestly then began to laugh as Tyler's eyes shot to him and another mock-monster growl escaped his lips. "Well…" Aaron responded to the growls in a hesitant, yet relaxed voice. "That just doesn't sound good at all."

"You have no idea." Mason sighed; sitting on his cot and patting on his thigh. Aya sat down on his lap and he wrapped his arms around her.

"What, are you guys getting fucking married now?" Tyler shook his head; beginning his second beer. Aya just rolled her eyes as he swallowed half of it while Aaron pointed at Tyler's Glock.

"Have you had any trouble with that Tyler?" Tyler burped as he turned to him.

"What? No." Tyler shrugged; finishing the second beer quickly. "The trigger feels all mushy and shit though. Not like Eric's 1911's-" He stopped himself there and Aaron frowned.

"Who is Eric?" Aaron looked at Mason and Mason just shook his head sadly.

"Nobody…" Tyler shrugged. "You wanna hand me another one of those beers?" Aaron nodded and fetched another one; handing it to Tyler happily and sitting down again. Tyler just carried on the conversation as if nothing had happened. "No, it works when it has to and that's good enough for me. I haven't shot a lot of handguns… just some with, err, a friend of mine. He had a bunch of 1911's. This Glock's trigger feels pretty gay, but its works all right. You know?" Tyler sighed and started the third beer. He was drinking them like water and he could feel the cloud of happiness engulfing him from the center and out; making his eyes feel puffy and his spirit happy.

Mason listened to the conversation quietly as he squeezed Aya and rubbed her thigh. He hated Glocks with an arrogant passion. He wanted to shoot down anything good Tyler had to say about them and talk up something else that was more accurate and even more reliable. He held himself back. His gun-talk wouldn't help anything. Everyone just needed an honest conversation. It was keeping a bright light at the end of the tunnel.

"Well I don't want to say they suck," Aaron carried on, "I have a Glock 17 and you know… I don't think I've cleaned it once. Wait, I did clean it once." He shrugged. "But see, they're good for guys who don't care about guns, but want one because you can take care of them like you take care of the push-lawnmower you bought at Wal-Mart. Plus, if you shoot a guy who breaks into your house, the cops will probably take your gun and you'll never see it again. Well so what? It costs 400 bucks, so just buy another one."

"Yeah…" Tyler trailer off impartially. He wasn't really into guns. He'd never really thought of carrying one for self defense, or having one in his house in case of a home invasion. It just wasn't him. He really wished he'd maybe thought that through a little differently. Maybe they'd be in a different place then. Then again, Eric had always thought about that and he was dead.

"Well I want to go to sleep." Mason yawned; kissing Aya on the cheek. "You guys want to keep drinking, or what?" He really needed to lay his head down. His body was begging for it.

"Nah," Tyler shook his head as Aaron agreed. "I gotta sleep too; especially if we're going to hit the road tomorrow." He rubbed his eyes; looking off toward Liz's sleeping area. She was obviously in bed. There was no movement in the area.

"All right then." Mason ruffled his hair; watching Aya throw blankets out onto the gymnasium floor. "Whenever we wake up then, lets hit it hard." He sighed and looked over the large group of people that was scattered throughout the room. Maybe things weren't so bad. Maybe they did have a chance.

Chapter 14

Scum of the Earth.

Tyler didn't wake up calmly and neither did the people around him. Suddenly, the entire room seemed to be vibrating. They could hear explosions and small arms echoes coming from beyond the gymnasium doors. Tyler looked to his left where Mason's cot was. He saw nothing, just Aya waking up; looking for her lover.

"Fuck." Tyler groaned; looking at Aaron as he came out of his own slumber. He wasn't looking forward to playing "Where's Waldo" with Mason; not right when he woke up. He scratched his head and his heart rate began to increase as the sounds around him began to sink in. There was a full-scale battle raging outside.

* * *

"Jesus." Mason grumbled as the wind blew through his hair. He was on the roof with the D.P.M.S. S.A.S.S. he'd found in the supply-room; watching the distance explode in a magnificent array of fire and destruction. There were planes flying overhead. They couldn't be seen or heard really; only the destruction on the ground could prove their existence.

"Why are they doing this now!?" Mason yelled over the roars of explosions. It seemed every house and building within viewing distance of the school was being blown down by the reign of fire dropping from above.

"We want a clear line of sight so we can engage at extended distances!" A blond, young-looking soldier responded. "Especially the mortar teams! If we can't pinpoint where the enemy is, then we're sitting ducks! We need our forward observers to be able to see those fuckers, so we can mortar their asses back to hell!"

"Fuck yeah, dude!" Mason nodded as the wind gust from a very large bomb hit him and he took a deep breath. Why hadn't he joined the military? He knelt on the roof and watched in the distance as a soldier behind him turned on a stereo system and the song "Heavy Metal; Taking a ride" began to play as massive Mk. 82, and 83 unguided bombs began to fall wherever the eye could see. It was the Air Force's attempt to remove all defilade and make clear-sight for the soldiers on the ground. The bombs seemed to do their work. The buildings seemed to be exploding left and right. The destruction was magnificent and disgusting. Human ingenuity was ridiculous.

Mason continued to watch as the distance was cleared. Fire had engulfed everything. It was like an urban forest-fire. All the buildings were either crumbled or up in flames, but it didn't stop there. Mason could see the masses of the dead everywhere. It wasn't just in the front of the school, it was behind it too. The dead had formed a giant horde together and they were coming from all sides. He could see them swarming in from everywhere. They came through the fire; their bodies burning. It didn't stop them. They just kept on coming.

Mason felt his heart-rate increasing. How could they still be coming? Massive bombs were being dropped, but their bodies continued to move forward; their gazes locked on the school.

Mason turned his head as he heard soldiers began to speak quickly to each other.

"Range, 982, charge 4, elevation 1882." They were dialing in an M120 120mm mortar system along with several other mortar teams. The mortar-tubes didn't all appear to be the same size. There were at least eight different teams; every couple a different size. Mason just watched. He wanted to see the damage delivered in the distance. Far away from the safety of his perch.

Mason winced as deep thumps began to erupt from the mortar tubes. He stared, wide eyed, into the distance as the explosives landed amongst the crowds of the dead. In unison with the explosions, bodies disintegrated, or flew into the air, but the crowd kept moving forward. Their seemed to be no end to them.

"Keep it going, keep firing! Let's fucking go!" A soldier roared. He threw his arms in the direction he was facing. Mortar tubes kept roaring and the distance kept exploding; but the dead kept moving.

As Mason's nervous breathing continued, his eyes went to a soldier near him. He could hear him talking calmly into his radio.

"Almighty, this is Fist Alpha, I need a M.O.A.B at position-"

Mason wrinkled his eye brows as he listened. He'd heard that before, but where? He stared at his hands. It sounded so damn familiar. Then his eyes widened. It meant "Massive Ordnance Air Blast Bomb" also known as the "mother of all bombs."

Mason's eyes widened at the thought. That bomb was the biggest unguided, non-nuclear bomb in the arsenal of the United States. It's blast extended out to one-mile in every direction; destroying everything in its path. His arms began to shake and he took a deep breath. He hoped to God they wouldn't drop it within a mile. His eyes went to the guy on the radio again. He was asking for other things as well. J-dams, close air support, and a bunch of other numbers and codes that Mason couldn't understand. His heart was pumping so hard that he wasn't sure he'd be able to kneel for much longer. The explosions broke his train of thought.

Mason wasn't sure what it was, but an uncountable number of medium-sized explosions began to echo in the distance. He watched their flashes within the hordes of the dead that were approaching. More bodies flew and more bodies were forced to the ground, but even more continued. How could there be so many? The city wasn't that big, but they just kept pushing forward.

"Prepare for impact; thirty seconds!" The radio-soldier yelled from his position. The soldier scanned the distance nervously; watching with wide-eyes. "Fifteen…ten….five, four, three, two-"

Mason winced uncontrollably as the distant explosion roared. It wasn't a quick one either. He fought to keep his eyes opened as the ball of fire and force ripped toward the school; eating up everything in its path. He could hear its hungry growl approaching him. It kept coming, and coming, and coming; bringing a thick cloud of gray-smoke with it. Mason clenched his eyes as it hit him; blocking his view and making him wonder if he was dead. As the cloud passed he let out a sigh and opened his eyes; his entire body shaking uncontrollably.

"Keep it fucking going!" An unknown soldier screamed and the mortars began to scream again. Mason just watched in awe. Explosions erupted everywhere in the distance with a rice-crispies-like snap-crackle-pop. His legs shook and his mouth gaped opened as his eyes scanned. Nothing could survive. It would be ridiculous.

Mason turned his head as deeper, more rapid-fire began to erupt. The Armored vehicles in the front yard were firing now too. Mason closed his eyes and let the "thumps" echo through his head. It was everything he'd every dreamed it could be. He grinned, then a laugh began to echo through his lungs.

Mason watched the distance. Everything was smoking. The fist of God had slammed down upon the surface of the earth; delivering a blast un-seen by the eyes of ordinary men. But his heart stopped as he continued to watch. The dead were still approaching in hordes.

* * *

Tyler threw his Tactical-vest on and looked at Aaron. He was just as prepared; looking at Tyler as he zipped the front zipper of his own vest and picked up his M-4.

"Sounds pretty fucked up." Tyler grunted nervously as he checked the chamber of his Glock and looked at Aaron.

"Let's just see what's happening before my balls erupt in my stomach." Aaron shrugged. "Snakes alive with a forty-five."

"Huh?" Tyler asked; confused.

"Nothing." Aaron shook his head. "Let's go see what's going on."

They both walked quickly to the gymnasium doors and stepped into the hall and stopped momentarily. Every soldier in the hall was moving quickly; seemingly unaware of Aaron and Tyler's presence. The two young men took a right toward the stairs, but before they could get far, Mason stepped out of the stair-well and his face lit up as he saw them.

"Just go back into the gym." Mason said nervously as he walked up; looking over his shoulder. "Just do it."

Tyler and Aaron didn't put up much resistance. They just walked along, taking cover in the gymnasium again due to Mason's worried tone. The door closed behind them and Mason shrugged; looking passively at the refugees and the soldiers guarding the open-room.

"Its all hell out there." Mason crossed his arms; repositioning the S.A.S.S. over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Aaron asked nervously; scratching his nose as Tyler stared emotionlessly.

"The corpses are everywhere… like a fucking tidal-wave. Did you hear the fucking blasts? They're dropping the entire fucking U.S. arsenal on top of them and they're still fucking coming." Mason looked over his shoulder at the gymnasium doors again. How could it really be?

* * *

Outside things were less civil. Soldiers on the roof-top were dropping laser-guided munitions, and un-guided bombs one after the other; delivering an explosive punishment not seen since the second world war.

Voices roared over the explosions as Mk. 81, 82, 83, and 84 unguided bombs were dropped in the open; sending tidal waves through the air; shattering foundations, kicking up dirt, and blowing bodies into nothing, but the corpses didn't stop. Their numbers only seemed to grow as more was thrown at them left and right.

"Napalm, napalm…" A soldier said as he put his radio to his face again. "Almighty, this is fist-alpha. I need as many Mk. 79's as you can deliver at previously established coordinates-" The roar didn't stop as he barked into his radio. The teams on the roof and the ground continued to precisely deliver 60 mm, 81 mm, and 120 mm High Explosive mortars onto the crowds of the dead approaching. It wasn't enough. They kept coming; pushing to get closer and closer, trying to close on their final objective.

The soldiers all looked up as they heard Jets in the air. Several aircraft came low, and as dozens of sets of eyes watched, multiple large-canisters were dropped to the ground.

A wave of insatiable flames roared through the air and across the landscape. The soldiers watched as corpses were engulfed into flames and while still on fire, walked toward the school as if untouched. It was disgusting. Their arms continued to stretch outward before them, but in minutes, the insatiable flames ate them down to nothing; turning them into charred pieces of debris left to be walked on by their brothers. And yet, the corpses behind them continued. Their eyes locked on the school.

* * *

"Its time to get our shit together and get the fuck out of here." Mason said sternly as he looked around nervously for his Commando. He spat as he realized he'd left it in the supply room. It might be hard to convince someone to let him leave with a weapon that was possibly confiscated by now. He looked at Aaron, Tyler, Liz, and Aya. They all looked worried.

"So…" Aaron trailed off. "Is it pretty bad outside?"

"Uh," Mason hesitated; looking at all the innocent people in the gymnasium, "Not bad enough for the Military to give up I don't think." Mason's eyes danced around for the kid he'd given his USP to. He needed it back since he had the ammo and magazines for it.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Tyler slammed Mason in the shoulder with a closed fist. "Tell us exactly what the fuck is going on. What the fuck are you acting like such an asshole for?" Mason turned to him and his eyes widened. He grabbed Tyler by the shoulders and leaned in.

"Dude, if we don't leave now then we might be fucked for good. Are you fucking reading me?" Mason's eyes emitted a terror Tyler had never seen and he backed up slowly; his eyes wide. "Get whoever you need and get to the LMV. It's parked outside the North-side doors. Move the stuff from the bus into the LMV and OUR HMMWV. You got me?"

"Yeah." Tyler nodded. "Yeah, we'll get it done A.S.A.P."

"Good." Mason nodded at Aaron and hugged Aya. He looked at her. "Just go with them honey."

"Ok." She nodded; noting the look on his face. There was no way she wasn't going to take him seriously.

Tyler, Aaron, Liz, and Aya walked through the gymnasium doors and set their sights on the set of northern exit-doors. They all walked calmly down the hall, not looking at anyone until they got near the exit. That's when everything took a bad turn.

"Hold it." A soldier said sternly as Tyler reached for the door. "Nobody leaves right now. Its Captain Sorenson's orders." His eyes dug into Tyler's and Tyler shrugged his shoulders nervously and took a deep breath.

"Do you know who I am?" Tyler asked confidently; huffing up his chest. "Do you have any idea what I've done in the past twenty-four hours?" He stared; trying to be laid-back as two more soldiers came up; relaxed, but ready.

"It doesn't matter, sir." The soldier said calmly and politely with his finger on the trigger, but his weapon down. "Its our job to keep you safe, and that's all we're worried about. Please go back to the gymnasium."

Tyler took his hand away from the door and nodded. He didn't want to fight with the good-guys. He'd simply have to do what they said and then eventually move out when the chance came up. How else would it work? A gunfight with Allied Forces could do nothing but-

"Private," Lieutenant Anderson's voice caused Tyler's respectful gaze go away from the soldier. As Tyler watched, the soldier's eyes went to Lieutenant Anderson and he saluted, "These men are to be treated with the utmost respect. If Captain Sorenson knew that you'd troubled them, he would be surely upset and ready to penalize you for your misgivings. Do you understand Private?" The soldier nodded with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know Lieutenant!" The soldier said nervously and Lieutenant Anderson nodded. "Carry on." The soldier and his team-mates walked away and Lieutenant Anderson turned his gaze to Tyler, Aaron, Liz, and Aya.

"You guys take care now." Lieutenant Anderson smiled. "I'm not supposed to let civilians leave, but you guys… You've got something right about you and I don't want to fuck it up. I hope you make it to where you're going and find what you're looking for." Lieutenant Anderson grinned when Mason stepped up next to him with an M-16A4 hung over his chest and a different gun in his leg-holster.

"I stole some shit from you Cowboy. I hope you don't mind us expanding our collection by two guns. Just figured I needed to top it off with something good." Mason rubbed his nose and spat a stream of tobacco on the floor before smiling a big toothy smile.

"I see," Anderson grinned at Mason and patted him on the shoulder; looking over the weapons. "I don't think we'll be missing two. I just hope that your greedy gathering of ammunition won't come back to haunt me." He shrugged. "Then again, I have an ammo drop this afternoon. I hope I don't have to send anyone out to find it." He smiled and looked down the hall to where a small group of soldiers were getting a hasty briefing. "I gotta go." Anderson huffed up his chest. "Duty calls."

"By the way," Mason beamed before Anderson walked away, "I'll never forget your stylish arrival. It was like… Michael Jackson-esque."

"Fuck you," Anderson beamed while everyone chuckled hesitantly. "Get your asses out and find your families." He looked over everyone seriously. "All of you… find your families… make sure they're safe. And most of all, take care." He shook everyone's hand and smiled hesitantly. "Watch your asses on the way out. See you on the other side people."

With speed in mind Tyler, Aaron, Mason, and Aya loaded supplies and ammunition from the bus into the LMV and HMMWV. Liz stood by watching. Tyler made her look after Carter rather than bothering herself with any heavy-lifting. It didn't take long for the once fully-loaded yellow-bus to be empty and the two military-vehicles to be stacked.

As Tyler closed the back of the HMMWV, Aaron glanced at Mason's sidearm. It obviously wasn't the USP he'd gotten so used to seeing.

"What did you pick for you backup?" Aaron tipped his head and Mason just smiled softly and walked passed him calmly.

"Smith and Wesson Model 39 baby." He halted and turned to Aaron; pulling out a black thing that looked like a little pipe. "With a fucking silencer!" He gave the "suck-it" sign and grunted. "The Army rules the fucking earth baby!" He climbed into the passenger-seat of the HMMWV and slammed the door. "Let's kick it!" He slammed on the side of the door wit hthe palm of his hand and let out a holler. Aaron just shrugged. They minus well take off before anyone got pissy.

* * *

"You got point man." Mason said into the C.B. as Aaron climbed into the HMMWV. "Let's just head north on any highway or interstate and get the fuck out before the tidal-wave of hell rolls in." Mason was in the HMMWV alone with Aaron and the two girls were in the LMV with Tyler. It seemed the safest since the HMMWV had an M240 on it. That way, if the LMV crashed, or stalled, the LMV could support them while they escaped or repaired. And if the HMMWV crashed or stalled, they could support themselves while they repaired or escaped.

"I've got the route planned out already." Tyler's voice came flatly through the radio. "Just follow me and I think we'll be ok." He paused for a moment, then cleared his voice uncomfortably. He was looking at Liz. "Dude, we have an obvious problem though."

"And what would that be?" Mason asked dully; his heart was increasing in rate again as his eyes scanned the horizon. The explosions were still roaring everywhere, but he could still see countless corpses making their approach. They were closer now.

"Well," Tyler grumbled, "There are bombs exploding in just about every direction… In case you didn't notice. How they fuck do you want me to get through this? What if a napalm bomb lands right the fuck on top of us? I can't just drive through that stuff." He wasn't irritated, he was just worried. While the Military was doing its best to neutralize the growing threat, they were also boxing Tyler and everyone else inside the shrinking safe-zone.

"Just wait," Mason said through the radio excitedly, "wait for the next set of explosions in whatever fucking area you're planning on going through. I hope to fucking God its north man, because that looks a lot clearer than everything else and I don't see a lot of shit landing over there. We gotta go that way anyway so…" A string of explosions erupted in the area Mason was talking about and he put the radio to his face again. "Never mind."

"Fuck it!" Tyler barked inside the LMV and hit the accelerator. The LMV tore forward; catching Aaron off guard. He quickly followed; his hands shaking from possibilities that lay ahead. This wasn't his idea of a party.

As the vehicles hit the pavement of the city-street, Mason climbed into the back and rose through the turret; putting his hand on the grip of the M240. He took a deep breath and leaned his head back; taking a deep whiff of the smoky air. Aaron glanced back at him as he started to sing the lyrics to "The Immigrant song" by "Led Zeppelin." He couldn't help, but chuckle lightly.

Back in the LMV, things weren't so cozy. Tyler's eyes were gaping and dancing back and forth like some sort of marionette; controlled by something other than him. The smoke was billowing from everywhere; he could see flames raging and burning bodies walking toward the street. He wasn't worried about them. They would take too long to get in his path. It was the scattered groups of them already wandering along the pavement that he had to cautiously avoid. An impact with one, or more of them at fifty-five miles-per-hour could pose a real danger. Their increasing numbers forced him to drop the speed down to twenty-five miles-per-hour. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. A bomb could hit any second.

Mason was nervous too. A multitude of possible scenarios were skimming through his head with no end in sight, plus the reality of how retarded he was for having the most vulnerable half of his body sticking nakedly through the top of the vehicle. His hand went shakily to his vest and he pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds. While the entire show of American firepower was glorious and impressive, he couldn't get over the idea of how pissed he'd be if he was killed by friendly-fire. He lit his smoke and ducked back into the cab. He'd get back on the gun when he had to.

"This is not cool!" Aaron said as Mason sat down beside him. He scanned a corpse in a Minister's outfit nervously as he rolled past it. God really wasn't messing around. Apparently no type of person was immune from the world-wide cleansing.

"No shit!" Mason yelled and winced as a reasonably large explosion ripped through the air behind them. He looked in the rear-view mirror. And then turned his gaze back to the street; his eyes wide. "We gotta get this fucker moving!" He grabbed the radio and put it to his face as Aaron weaved around a small group of corpses that were coming off of the sidewalk.

"Tyler, Tyler," Mason chattered, "We gotta move man. A whole bunch of shit just exploded right behind us. I've got a bad fucking feeling creeping through me starting at my balls!" He winced as he heard more explosions around them not far off.

"Keep it in your pants Maci!" Tyler responded excitedly; his adrenaline ripping through his system like a hard street-drug. "We're fucking moving baby!" He crushed a dead woman that he could have sworn was pregnant and pushed harder on the accelerator; putting it out of his mind. They needed to get the hell out. That's all that was important.

Aaron matched Tyler's speed; his heart rate increasing so his eyes felt like they were going to explode. He didn't want to be here. In fact, he wished he'd never gone on vacation at all.

Who the hell takes a Spring vacation anyway? Wasn't that something that a person saved for summer-time? A bead of sweat ran down the side of Aaron's head as he mimicked one of Tyler's swerves around a pickup that was wrapped around a tree and sticking half-way into the street. If he hadn't gone on vacation, he'd be at his family-farm with 33 handguns, thirty-seven rifles, and uncountable rounds of unfired and reloadable ammunition. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. The area he lived in might even be completely under control. The population was so small, and everyone had a gun. Who was to say they hadn't banded together into a huge hunting-party and gone out shooting? It sounded reasonable to him. He just couldn't imagine people sitting around and letting things go to-

"Dude, don't get so fucking close." Mason warned; bringing Aaron out of his private-talk. Aaron took his foot off of the accelerator and let the speed drop. He'd come pretty close to Tyler's rear-end. That would have been a great way to end the trip.

"Sorry, I'm a little fucking tense." Aaron said in a mock grimy, high-pitched voice; bringing laughter from Mason's mouth.

"Man, that fucking reminds me of someone…" Mason trailed off.

* * *

Tyler's teeth clenched as he flew through an intersection littered with debris and abandoned cars. It reminded him of "I am Legend" with Will Smith. Just vehicles and calm looking buildings with garbage littering everything. He wasn't upset about the obvious litter-control problem though. It was the completely jammed intersection that was coming up straight ahead.

"Oh fuck." Aya said flatly as she leaned forward in her seat. Tyler just glanced at her as the LMV closed on the line of parked and crashed vehicles and cramped the wheel left; swerving the big vehicle into an alleyway and pushing even harder on the accelerator. The vehicle roared down the alley, crashing into several full trash-cans and sending them flying, and erupted out the other side and back into the street. Tyler glanced to his right. The intersection was still blocked by vehicles. Hey stayed the course; bringing the LMV into the next alley. He slowed down to forty miles-per-hour as he saw several corpses begin to move around stupidly; wandering into his path. He slowed down a little more and his body tensed as he hit them. The LMV shuttered and swerved a little, but he kept it under control; glancing in the rear-view to see Aaron run over their immobilized bodies and keep them down for good. He grinned. When metal met flesh and bone, metal usually won.

Tyler slowed the LMV down as he came out of the alley and looked to his right again. The intersection wasn't completely clear, but there were several spots where it looked like he could squeeze or force himself through. He took a hard right and got back onto the street. He glanced at the street-sign. It said "Cherry Street." Where had he heard that before?

* * *

"Cherry Street, Cherry street." Mason said in a gruff, old-man voice. "I once knew a girl who lived on Cherry street." Him and Aaron both began to laugh. That was one of Charlton Hesston's lines from "Wayne's World 2." Mason just shook his head. How could that be funny?

"You know, that's so fucked up… but its still fucking funny." Mason shook his head. "That's… not as bad as one of those dead baby jokes though I guess. I don't know if I could laugh at one of those, since we're surrounded by dead cannibals." He snickered and put a new cigarette in his mouth; watching ahead as Tyler shoved a couple vehicles out of his way with the LMV.

"They're not technically cannibals." Aaron said as-a-matter-of-factly. "Cannibals eat their own. They don't eat each other, they just eat us." He looked at Mason and shrugged. "Not so… cannibal…y."

"You're fucking weird." Mason smirked. "Like one of those lesbian biker chicks." He looked around. He could hear explosions, but they weren't just yards away anymore. They were blocks away; landing in the same area as before. It seemed they were safe; at least from U.S. made dumb-bombs.

"Well I'm not a chick, and I don't ride motorcycles anymore." Aaron brought the Humvee through the gap that Tyler had created and shrugged his right shoulder. "I had one for like two years, then I was driving in Thief River Falls Minnesota, and these retarded teenagers cut me off in a mini-van. I had to set her down and I broke my left shoulder, my right arm, and my right thigh."

"Fuck," Mason spat, "I hate fucking teenagers… How about a Lesbian S and M chick then?"

"Yeah, I suppose that would work if you took the whole penis-thing out of the equation."

"Wait!" Mason gasped smartly. "You're a boy?"

* * *

"Fuck this shit, right up the ass!" Tyler looked at Liz, then at Carter, then at Liz again. "Sorry." He didn't want to be teaching some little kid bad words right off the bat. He had more class then that.

"Just focus on the road honey." Liz said sarcastically. "Chase said worse things then that around him."

"Right." Tyler nodded as Aya turned back from the front seat and started a light-hearted conversation. Tyler let out a shaky breath. He didn't know exactly where they were, but if he kept north, he knew eventually they'd find their way to the highway. He snaked through a small bunch of empty vehicles and shook his head. How was this for a fun drive? Back before things went to hell, hitting up the Highway to cool off was something he'd loved to do when he had the money for gas. Now that wasn't the problem. The problem was people trying to eat his face, or blow his brains out the back of his skull. It was funny how things changed.

"The only bad thing," Tyler heard Liz say in humor, "is how I have to watch my diet to make sure he's getting all the nutrients he needs."

Tyler's heart nearly stopped. His hand went to the radio as he begged God that Mason, or Aaron had stolen at least a few MRE's from the school.

"Mason." Tyler said with no emotion. "Do you have any food in the Humvee?" He waited for a moment before Mason's voice came back.

"No, I figured we could cover that on the way. Why?"

"Because I have a woman who is breast-feeding in the fucking vehicle!" Tyler slammed the radio down and looked at Liz in the rear-view. "Don't feel bad. This is our fault. We didn't plan ahead because we're fucking retarded." He put the radio to his mouth again and let out a sigh; slowing the LMV down. "Keep your eyes open for a grocery-store, or something. We need to get whatever we can."

"Roger." Mason responded. "I could go for some Doritos anyway."

Tyler's focus went back to the road as his eyes searched. Pembleton didn't seem to be set up in a real intelligent way. Sort of like Crookston Minnesota. Once you've driven through it, you're convinced that the designers were on Meth when they sat down and put it on paper.

"If you take a left here and go down three blocks, there's a "Superfoods" and a "Wal-Mart." Liz said softly. "I live here, remember?"

"Fuck yes!" Tyler beamed at her in the rear-view. "Fuck… yes!" He took a left and took the LMV onto the sidewalk. The area they were in almost looked rural. There was a gas-station on the left, and what looked like a cheap farm-coop on the right, but there weren't any abandoned vehicles. Just a partially abandoned parking-lot about two hundred yards down on the right in front of what looked the be the "Superfoods" and even further down was the "Wal-Mart" parking lot. There were plenty of vehicles still in the parking-lot there.

"I see a "Wally-World." Mason snickered over the radio. "If you want shit in large quantities, I'd say let's do that shit man… Uh, over."

"Roger." Tyler said; letting the radio drop to the floor. He accelerated down the open-street and took the LMV up the curb, over the sidewalk, and into the parking-lot. He rolled to a stop outside the doors and a moment later, Aaron did the same. Mason popped through the turret and smiled as Tyler and Aya climbed out.

"You and Aaron, inside." Mason pointed at Tyler. "I'll keep an eye out and, uh, keep the ladies company."

"Keep it in the pants." Tyler eyed Mason seriously as Aaron walked up to him with his M-4 slung over his chest. They both looked over the parking-lot silently for a moment, then Aaron shrugged.

"Looks like a free-for-all." Aaron looked at Tyler and Tyler nodded.

"Yeah, I don't know. A lot of things look that way." He looked at the doors of the Wal-Mart and sighed. It was dark. "We're not going to be able to see shit."

"I have an idea." Aaron smiled. "Tell Liz to get into the Hummer."

"Okay…" Tyler tailed off; puzzled.

* * *

The LMV exploded through the front doors of the Wal-Mart and into the isles. Aaron hooted as they ran down racks of clothes and exploded through the Jewelry section; reigning down shards of broken glass onto the hood.

"Isle nine, soup." Aaron pointed and Tyler halted; keeping the lights on the isle.

"You know," Tyler said honestly as they both climbed out, "we really should have grabbed a cart." He looked over the hood as Aaron walked up to an abandoned cart and wheeled it up to the isle.

"Good to go?"

"Good to go." Tyler nodded; listening closely for any shuffling feet. A shiver ran up his spine and he looked eerily at Aaron "We've got five minutes. Let's do it quick."

* * *

"Now set your finger on the trigger and when you're relaxed, take a deep breath and fire." Mason had his arm around Aya as she looked through the scope of the S.A.S.S. and put her finger on the trigger. The gun barked and 225 yards away, a body dropped. "Great job babe. See, its not that hard once you have it dialed in. That's where people get all fucked up and think they suck at shooting." He took the gun from her and kissed her; turning his eyes to Liz.

"Hey Liz," Mason turned the safety "on" on the rifle and smiled, "have you ever shot a gun before?"

"A couple times." Liz pulled Carter against her body. She was breast-feeding him. "I'd love to try it out, but its kind of a bad time." Her and Aya laughed and Mason nodded; getting the point.

"Next time." Mason chuckled; turning away and focusing his attention at a cluster of corpses that were walking toward the parking lot about 250 yards away. "Damn it." He sighed; setting the S.A.S.S. on the hood. "I really hate using all of the M80 ammo up out here when we're going to take off in a minute." He wandered to the back of the Humvee and opened the back; his eyes lighting up as he looked at the guns. "Oh, for crying out loud." Mason pulled a Howa 1500 from the pile of guns. It was in .223 caliber. He had plenty of that here and there. He pulled back the bolt and walked to the front of the Humvee; placing it next to the S.A.S.S. He took a 30-round AR-15 magazine from his vest and took 5 rounds out of it. He put the magazine back, then loaded the rounds one by one into the Howa. He leaned on the hood and looked through the scope. It was a fairly nice one, a Nikko-Sterling Night Eater in 50mm.

"I don't know why anyone would put a 50mm scope on a .223." Mason shrugged; still staring through the scope at the moving targets down range. A gun blast made him jump and he looked, wide eyed, over his shoulder. Aya was aiming down her Glock's sights. They were centered on a now-downed corpse body.

"A fucking sneaky bastard." Mason nodded; turning back to his scope. "Nice shot honey."

"That one might have given you a run for your money Mason." Liz said cutely from the car; snuggling Carter against herself as Mason snickered.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." He rested his elbows on the hood of the Humvee and centered the crosshairs on the chest of a very determined looking, yet very dead man in a business suit. The white shirt he was wearing was soaked in blood; though it had turned into a blackish color over the course of his decay. Mason took a deep breath and held it. BOOM! The gun echoed off of the Wal-Mart and the sharp crack roared across the parking lot.

"Four inches high and about five right." Mason smiled at Liz as he screwed the elevation and windage caps off of the scope and looked down at the adjustment knobs. He clicked them each until he was satisfied and set his elbows back onto the hood. He centered the crosshairs on the businessman again and sighed. "I think I'm going to let him go. I didn't get his head, so he gets to keep munching on people. It's a fair game." He moved the crosshairs to a woman who was a few feet from the businessman and grunted. "Women and children first right?" He squeezed the trigger and the gun echoed again; as Mason recovered from his wince, he saw her body ending its short tumble to the concrete.

"Man, I'm fucking good." Mason boasted with a big grin. He turned to Aya and Liz and bowed. They both rolled their eyes in unison and Mason just shrugged; turning back to the other corpses who were wandering in their direction. "I'm surprised they even know we're here… You know? I mean, all you can hear in the distance is that fucking air-support. You think they saw us? I don't. I think they just know. Somehow, they just fucking know." "You're thinking about it too much." Liz said confidently. "It really doesn't matter, so why bother yourself with the burden of questioning? If you let it just be, and move forward anyway, your load will be lightened and you'll go further with your own drive." She brought Carter away from her breast and repositioned her shirt. Mason nodded and walked to the back of the Humvee; putting the Howa rifle back in its place.

"You big into poetry?" Mason asked through the rear hatch. Liz just turned and smiled at him. "Or are you a big theology-type?" He smiled smartly back; putting his arm around Aya as she walked up to him.

"You're just mad that a girl can make more sense of this than you can." Aya kissed him; beaming as his cheeks turned red.

"I love poetry," Liz nodded, "but most of the bad things that have happened to me I've been able to deal with by reading the quotes of scholars and other people that have had a big impact on the world. Like Winston Churchill." Liz tipped her head thoughtfully then shrugged. "I guess I don't know all that much about anything particular, but I do know the words to keep a person's spirits up."

"Well you better talk a lot to Tyler because he hates the world and everyone in it." Mason nodded confidently; crossing his arms and checking their surroundings slowly. "If you don't believe me, just have a conversation with him that lasts more than five minutes. He'll be sure to let you know how everyone on earth is useless and everyone who ever gave a damn has been dead a long time." He shrugged a shoulder. "I couldn't disagree more, but I love the guy anyway. He's got a bad habit of bringing you down… emotionally." Aya just nodded in agreement as Liz smiled softly; looking off toward the broken Wal-Mart entrance.

"I like him." She said in a relaxed and satisfied tone. "I like him because he doesn't go with the flow like other people and the consequences don't frighten him. He's his own man who wants to make his surroundings a place to be proud of. I can see it in his eyes."

"Fucking poetic." Mason looked at Aya and wrapped his arms around her. "Are you mad that I can't talk like that?" Aya just shook her head.

"I knew you were an idiot the second I met you. Don't let it bug you honey."

Liz's eyes didn't drift from the doorway, but her imagination wasn't there. It was in the past; reliving the decisions she'd made with Chase and remembering how extremely they'd effected them both in the relationship. He had been such a nice and caring guy in the beginning. She'd never really been into younger guys, but he'd had such innocent and good-hearted charm that she'd fallen for him almost right away. It had stayed that way until the baby. That's when things had taken such a harsh turn. With so much responsibility, Chase had changed. He became harsh and detached from everything he'd treated with such care and as a result he'd quickly drifted from both her and Carter.

"You ok?" Mason's voice interrupted Liz's train of thought and she shook herself out of it; looking up at Mason in surprise.

:"Sorry, I was just thinking about… everything." Liz shrugged. "Just recollecting on the times." She smiled her warm, caring smile and Mason's worries melted from his face.

"You're a tough chick- I'll bet you're tougher than me. Whenever you need anything at all that you can't get yourself, then you tell one of us boys and we'll make sure its at your disposal. You hear?"

"I know." Liz nodded. "I'm not worried about it." She looked back at the doors. "I'm just thinking about what could be."

"Right on." Mason nodded. "I got nothing bad to say about that." He walked to the front of the Humvee and opened the passenger-side door. He grabbed his M16A4 and cleared his throat as he reached for his pack of Cigarettes. "I'm going to go work on some reflex-shooting. Are you ladies alright on your own?" He watched as Aya looked at him, unimpressed, and pulled out her Glock.

"Well I'll be right back then." Mason smiled. "Don't take off without me."

Liz and Aya watched as Mason walked across the parking lot to within thirty-yards of the closest group of wandering corpses. He stopped there and let his rifle hang across his chest.

"How quick do you think he is?" Aya asked seriously; looking at Liz with a slight smirk on her face. "I honestly haven't seen him in action." Liz looked up at her and wrinkled her nose.

"Fast." Liz patted Carter's head gently. "Tyler has assured me."

As they both watched, Mason's rifle sprang up. The rifle popped four times within three seconds, hardly moving from the recoil as three bodies dropped. He began to move and continued to fire; his large frame keeping the muzzle-rise under control. As several more bodies tumbled lifelessly to the ground, Aya smiled to herself. Her boyfriend was "Rambo."

Liz and Aya continued to watch as Mason walked back toward them. He didn't have a smile on his face, but beads of sweat were running down his forehead. He marched up to them and shrugged as he dropped out the magazine and put it in his vest. He replaced it with a new one.

"I know it wasn't that quick. I think I'm losing my edge. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. I should have been faster." He aimed down the red-dot sight and shook his head.

"Do you have any fucking idea how fast that was?" Aya asked; shocked. "My brother can't shoot that fast and its his fucking job. Are you mental?"

"No," Mason said as he let his rifle hang and pulled out his sidearm," I'm just that fucking competitive." He checked the M-39's chamber, then screwed on the suppressor; looking down the sights. "If I'm not fast, then I'm not anything; just a guy." His eyes connected with the stares of both the girls and he shrugged. "I don't just want to be some guy with a gun. I want to be a professional." He let out a sigh and looked at his feet. "I never said I was normal."

"You can fucking say that again you strange little man." Aya smiled as Mason's eyes locked onto hers. He didn't seem as excited about her humor.

"I know what you're saying is a joke," Mason swallowed, "but it's the only thing I was ever good at." He put the M-16A4 in the back of the Humvee and slammed the hatch shut; his eyes locking onto another corpse that was wandering along the side of the Wal-Mart. A few more were coming around the corner; following their rotting friend.

"Fucking aye," Mason grumbled and opened the rear hatch again. Instead of grabbing anything big; he picked u pa bolt-action Remington .22 caliber rifle. Mason looked at it for a moment, then pulled one of the tubs of ammo toward him. He glanced at the corpses as he dug through the tub; searching quickly for the .22 Long-Rifle ammunition. After a few moments he found a half-empty, plastic-container with lead-nosed .22 L.R. rounds inside and he dumped them all onto the floor of the rear-cab. He quickly put ten into the magazine and slammed the bolt; turning to the corpses.

Mason leaned up against the Humvee and looked down the old-style rifle sights. They were clear as can-be, but he was worried about its accuracy. Whoever had it before him hadn't been real worried about keeping the weapon clean and maintained. He squeezed the trigger and the gun chirped with its girlish little muzzle blast. Mason worked the bolt and watched the zombie he'd shot it. He walked a few more steps as if nothing had happened, then slumped against the building and slid to the ground; his shoulders twitching as he stared into nothing.

"I guess it works." Aya said optimistically as Mason looked at her and nodded in a serious manner.

"Yeah, I think we ought to stick with that small stuff as much as possible We might as well save the higher-power stuff in case we run into any real dilemmas… or militias, or gangs… or any fucking thing on the long list of hell's creation."

"No shit." Aya agreed dryly; looking up as she heard the LMV's engine revving inside the Wal-Mart. She reflexively took a step backwards as the huge, black vehicle tore through the front doors and screeched to a halt next to the Humvee. The window rolled down slowly and Aaron stuck his head out. He was wearing sunglasses. He reached his hand out the window and Mason grinned as he saw he was holding a cigarillo.

"Cigar?" Aaron cackled as Mason grabbed it from him and put it in his mouth. He lit the end and shook his head as he let the smoke roll from his mouth.

"You ok Tyler?" Mason asked; looking at Tyler's sweaty forehead. Tyler looked over at him and shook his head.

"It was dark in there. Scary as hell." Tyler shivered and puffed the cigar he had in his hand. He looked through his window toward the corpses that were wandering along the side of the building and pointed at Liz. "Come on Cutie Pie, let's go." He looked at Aya too. "That means you too Hollywood."

As the girls moved toward the LMV, Aaron climbed out and wandered to the driver's side door of the Humvee. He climbed in and rolled his window down as Mason continued to talk to Tyler. He drew his sidearm and aimed it at one of the corpses; his elbows leaning comfortably in the windowsill. He squeezed the trigger and its head lurched back; the body falling into a pile. He moved his sights to the next one and took a shallow breath; following along with the target as it slowly moved he let his body completely relax and he depressed the trigger. The gun barked again and he let out his breath as the goo from the corpse's head erupted behind it and it fell almost on top of the one he'd shot only moments before.

Aaron let out a sigh and looked to the next target. His finger ran along the out line of the trigger for a moment and he gritted his teeth slightly. As he relaxed to aim again, a figure lurched out from his left and grabbed his arms.

"Ahhhh," Aaron roared as he pulled back into the cab. A corpse had snuck up on them, and now it was wrestling for Aaron's arm; pulling at him with all of its might. "Oh fuck!" Mason spat as he heard Aaron yell. He saw what was happening through the passenger-window and ran around the front of the Humvee; raising the .22's barrel as he walked up. He couldn't get a shot at its head; it was leaned in through the window. He swore as he threw the .22 onto the hood and ran directly up to the corpse. He thrust-kicked in it the side, but it hardly moved. He immediately grabbed it by the shoulders and began pulling it backwards.

"Get it off me man, get it off me!" Aaron hollered as he fought to keep it from coming in for a bite. He'd never looked at one so close before, and he'd never found one to be so frightening. Its eyes were burning and its lunges were desperate. He could smell its rotten mouth so clearly that he began to gag. Behind him, the passenger's door opened and Tyler climbed in. He kicked the corpse in the face with all of his might and finally, it lost its grip on Aaron's shirt and was forced back out the window; tumbling to the ground with Mason.

As Mason turned to face it, the corpse lunged at him with alarming speed. As it grabbed his arm, he grabbed its neck with his free hand; holding it back with all of his strength. His arm trembling with adrenaline and fear, the corpse changed its grip to Mason's fighting hand, and suddenly its head erupted in unison with a gun blast. The corpse fell to the ground; a pool of blackish blood forming underneath its shattered skull.

"Fucking punk bitch!" Mason roared; spitting on the corpse and holding his shoulder with clenched teeth as he climbing to his feet. Aaron walked up to the corpse and looked at it, then at his gun. The bullet had went through its right eye-socket and exited at the base of its skull. Its hands were twitching.

"We gotta go." Tyler said tensely. The corpses had grown in number around them; many coming from the road now and even more coming around the side of the building. They were scattered amongst the cars and trucks in the parking-lot; moving quickly toward their prey.

"Assholes." Aaron grunted as he climbed into the Humvee's driver seat. Mason climbed into the passenger's seat as he winked at Aya.

"I'm ok babe. See you at the next stop." He slammed his door and the engine roared to life.

"Ok, let's keep driving until we're too tired." Tyler's voice said over the radio. "We'll head straight north, cutting west when we get to the boarder. Let's move it."

"Copy that." Mason responded and stretched his arms. Finally they'd be back to their original goal, and maybe finally they'd get some closure.

_Hey guys… I know you're probably all pissed that it took me so long to update, but I couldn't help it… I got a girlfriend. She's taking up a lot of my writing time. I've tried to make her understand that I need to get this done, but she's a red-head and doesn't care. Lol. I'll get it done though and I want you to know that the next couple of chapters have some real twisted shit in store. I can't wait to write it and get it out here so you can review it._

P.S. I know there are some inconsistencies here and ALOT of spelling errors, but they will all be fixed in my final copy. If you notice one or two or three things wrong, then send me a private message and I'll fix it as soon as I can. Thanks guys.


	13. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

THE PREACHER

"_When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite."- Sir Winston Churchill_

"Did you know… that there were plans for Eric Clapton AND Jimmie Hendrix to get together in concert?" Mason stared at his feet as the Humvee vibrated; gliding over the pavement of the highway.

"Whoa-ho-ho-ho!" Aaron coughed excitedly. "That- that would be just the balls."

"I'm glad it didn't happen, and we're all lucky it didn't happen." Mason looked at Aaron solemnly.

"Why's that?" Aaron asked; unsure. "Can you imagine the power of that concert?" He was a very, very big advocate for classic rock musicians; especially the two being discussed. He couldn't imagine the two of them working together being a problem. He sensed a catch.

"Exactly," Mason nodded firmly, "it would have been delivered with such potency that the people in the crowd would have been overwhelmed and killed instantly and by the end of the first set the Sun would have exploded and everything on Earth would have been destroyed." They were both silent for a second then they both burst out laughing; trailing off after a moment, leading to a moment of silence. "It's true…" Mason said quietly.

"I'm really not liking this drive home." Aaron said honestly; changing the subject. "The one down to Pembleton was bad enough, but this time it just sucks sweaty balls." He snickered as Mason shrugged.

"So, you're saying you're enjoying it?" Mason grinned and Aaron laughed and stopped himself dead.

"No."

They were both quiet for a few minutes and Mason let himself stare out the window. They were moving at a steady fifty-five miles per hour. Tyler, in the lead car, was keeping a close eye out for wandering corpses. He didn't want to get into a roll-over caused by a brainless, flesh hungry shell of a person just because he was in a hurry to get home.

It was all bad. Even nature was acting seemingly out of the ordinary. The sky had been so gray for the past few days; casting a dark haze over the world as if to reflect the future of mankind. Mason yawned. Even out in the middle of nowhere, they were being forced to swing around an abandoned car, or truck here and there. They'd already stopped at two motor-homes to check for equipment and supplies. Both stops had yielded a few bottles of water or cans of food. They'd even come across a .410 shotgun. They'd opted to leave it. They had enough guns for now. Maybe the next person to come across it would actually need it.

Mason stared at his M-39. He'd never been a huge fan of S&W pistols other than the 4506 and its brothers the 4563 and 4566. The smaller caliber models had such a bad reputation for reliability that he just couldn't bring himself to ever buy one. He squeezed his hands around the classy wooden-grips and smirked. In all honesty he'd never heard anything bad about the M-39 series; even though it was in 9mm. Sure, it was an older gun so it wouldn't be as problem-free as say a Glock, or a Sig, but he had a suppressor for it, and he knew if he treated it with respect, it would do what he wanted when he wanted. He sighed and looked out the window again.

"Aaron, do you think God is going to hold all of this against us?" Mason looked at Aaron and Aaron shook his head.

"I don't know man. I'm not Doctor Phil, so I don't know what to tell you." Aaron looked at Mason and shrugged his right shoulder. "Sorry, man."

"Good fucking call." Mason laughed. "I think that was probably the answer I was looking for." He swallowed and looked at his hands. All he could see was their faces… the faces of all the people he'd killed. Maybe one day he'd be able to justify it, but it wasn't today.

"I was actually born in Pennsylvania." Tyler said as-a-matter-of-factly; trying to keep his eyes on the road. It was amazing how many wandering corpses were out in the middle of nowhere. The dead were truly everywhere. "My parents were born in North Dakota though and they moved to Hallock, Minnesota when I was really young. We stayed until I graduated and then I moved to Columbus for school because I thought it would be good to get out of my sheltered little world. And you know what?" He looked at Liz, then Aya, and shook his head, "I fucking hated it. It's all the fucking same. I should have just fucking stayed home and gone to college in Grand Forks, or Fargo. At least home would have only been a one or two hour drive then, at most." He shook his head. "Are there any smokes-" He looked at Carter and sighed. "Never mind."

"We're almost there." Liz put her hand on Tyler's shoulder. "We're all going to make it and everything's going to be ok. We've been through the worst now." She believed it too. She had some of the most capable people she'd ever met in the convoy with her. It would take the will of God to ruin anything.

"Don't support him too much," Aya grinned an evil grin and poked Tyler in the side from the back seat, "I think the worst was when he was with Mason at my grandmother's house and I got to watch them slowly destroy the whole place and then leave."

"You're playing with fire, Hollywood," Tyler said sarcastically while looking at Aya in the rear-view mirror. "Don't make me backhand you." He cackled and Aya rolled her eyes.

"See what I mean?" Aya laughed; leaning back in her seat. "It was that, 24/7, and I couldn't do a thing about it." The smile faded from her face. "They really saved me, though. They did some serious shit to get me out of there alive. He's a real hero, and so is Mason."

"Don't be calling me a hero." Tyler's face was sad, and disappointed. "I tried to convince him to keep going; Skip that farmhouse and try to find a car or something. He convinced me to stay and after that… it's all history. If it had been me and someone else, you probably never would have left that place." He shook his head and before Aya could respond, Liz broke in.

"But you did go in, and I bet forever, for her entire life, that's what Aya will remember. It's not about what could have been it's about what was."

"Exactly," Aya nodded, "you guys saved me and I'll never forget it."

"Me either," Liz squeezed Tyler's arm, "I won't forget it either."

"You guys are making shit awkward." Tyler shook his head; looking at the glove box. "Do you want to see if Mason left any chew in there?" Tyler watched as Liz opened the glove box; revealing three packs of Marlboro Mediums.

"Nope," Liz shrugged, "just cigarettes. You can have one if we open all of the windows." She kissed Carter's head and he giggled; grabbing at his mother's face. Tyler nodded, but before Liz could hand him one, the radio began to chatter.

"Hello, is anyone out there? Hello, please, if anyone is out there I need help! Please, someone!"

Tyler didn't say anything as he heard the voice on the radio. He felt his arms start to tremble. He didn't want to ignore a plea for help. He didn't want to act in only his own best interest as he had before. He had the means to help people now and he didn't want to take the easy route. But they'd just gotten back on the road. It hadn't been eight hours since their departure and he didn't want to cut it down so shortly.

"Please, someone help! We're trapped in a Church! The dead can't get in, but we have no food… all we need is food! Please!"

"What do you think, Tyler?" Mason's voice came over the radio. "He can hear me, but don't let it bother you. What do you honestly think?"

"Oh, please, please!" The voice yelled over the radio; causing Tyler to swallow hard. "Please help us! Please!"

Tyler thought for a moment. What if it was him trapped in that church? What if it was him starving to death, surrounded by the dead, just waiting to die? He didn't want to think of it. Why should he risk himself for others again? It's all he'd been doing. Going here and there, looking to make sure people made it out ok… He clenched his eyes shut. He had to, for his sins.

"Let's do it." Tyler said into his radio; looking at Liz. "You ok with this, honey?"

"Whatever you say?" Liz nodded.

"I'm ready too." Aya said; checking the chamber on her Glock. "Don't be doubting me just because I'm a girl."

"No one said any shit like that." Tyler shook his head and put the radio to his mouth. "Mason, let's do it." Tyler sighed. He had to make up for all the wrong he'd done.

"Ok." Mason huffed; putting the radio down. He looked at Aaron and shrugged. "I guess we're not going home as fast as we'd planned." He put the radio back to his mouth and took a deep breath. "Hey buddy, where are you at and how many of you? Give me a shout back as soon as you can."

Mason looked at Aaron and shook his head. "Are we like… God's little helper's or something? I mean, I don't mind saving people… I just don't like the fact that we're the only ones."

"We are on county road ten!" The voice interrupted Mason's complaint and he frowned. "It's a right off the highway; nearly five miles… there are four of us! We'll be here waiting for you! Please hurry!"

Mason rubbed the base of his nose and took a deep breath. He looked at his bloody boots and grunted; shaking his head. Why them? Why always them? They could very well keep rolling, but he knew they would always remember leaving the desperate behind. Why did God need to keep them that busy; pulled away from their true goal?

"It's about five minutes." Tyler's voice went over the radio. He was looking at the road signs. He had worked for the Kittson County Highway Department for several years and knew how the road-system worked with great confidence. If they kept going on their current path, all they'd have to do was take a left after a few miles onto a gravel-road. How many corpses could there really be out in the middle of nowhere? He sighed and clenched his fists tighter around the steering wheel. Regardless, they had to do what was right.

"Roger that." Mason said flatly. "Lead the way." He set the radio on its hook and checked the chamber on his M-39. Hopefully this wouldn't end up like the Hospital-situation in Pembleton. How could it though? There had been thousands of corpses in Pembleton; surrounding every building and shop; making it impossible to move. But out here in the country it wasn't possible for there to be that many. If they stayed on their toes, they'd be able to strategically eliminate the corpses one by one and free any survivors. How hard could it really be? Mason scratched his head and let the thought pass. He had a few minutes to think about it.

Tyler followed the road signs until the correct one came up. The blue, county-road ten sign stuck out like a sore-thumb and he took a hard left; bringing the LMV onto gravel.

"Keep an eye out for churches." Tyler said through the radio. He knew by now that these situations were very dependent on time. Any second a door could break down and a flood of flesh-hungry corpses could make their way into the defenseless church to devour the living. He didn't want that on his soul. He had enough eating at his mentality by now to nearly bring him to the ground.

"We got your ass man," Mason said over the radio, "just keep your head up, eyes opened."

Tyler took a deep breath and as Liz's hand rose with her pointer finger out, Tyler saw it. It was a real, live person jogging toward them with his arms in the air. He looked desperate.

"Ok, we're stopping!" Tyler said over the radio as he slowed down the LMV. The man fell to his knees on the opposite side of a one-way, left turn and Tyler rolled up to him. He stopped the LMV and opened his door; hopping out and running up to the young man; placing his hand on his shoulder. "You're going to be ok!" Tyler yelled; kneeling down next to him. The man looked up at Tyler as the Humvee came to a halt at the intersection and he smiled.

"But you won't."

Tyler's face turned into a confused frown and behind him a pickup crashed into the front of the Humvee; forcing it off of the road. Behind the pickup, another truck rolled to a stop and several armed men jumped out; approaching Tyler and the LMV with guns drawn.

"Get on the ground!" A nameless man yelled; pressing a rifle barrel up to Tyler's head. Tyler just looked at the man he'd come to help and the young man smiled.

"It's God's will." The young man smiled; climbing to his feet. He looked to the crashed Humvee. "Look for survivors!"

Aaron hardly had a chance to clutch his bloody head before the Humvee's door was swung open. Several hands pulled him out of the driver's seat and slammed him to the gravel. He put his hands to the air as he was kicked repeatedly; defenseless to the beating being reigned down upon him.

On the other side of the pickup, several men opened Mason's door. They did the same to him as they did to Aaron; ripping him out of the door onto the ground. Mason tried desperately to block their kicks; Swearing at them deliriously as they connected with his chest and head.

"Just run along," Mason choked as another set of kicks connected with his chest, "you don't listen do you assholes?" He landed on his back and a bearded, grisly looking man leaned over him; grinning.

"Time to go to beddy bye city-boy." A foot connected with Mason's face and everything blacked out from there.

* * *

"Wake them, wake them! Bring their lost souls to bear! Let them hear what the Lord wants them to hear!"

Tyler's eyes opened partially. He could see people moving amongst him and he felt arms pull him to his feet. He forced his eyes open and his heart stopped as he saw his friends amongst him held helplessly; staring at a man in a robe with a book in his hands.

"Lord' oh 'God with your blessing, let us bring these souls to light. Let us lead these damned beings into the world which you desire us to create. Oh, Lord let us not wander!"

All of Tyler's group was awake by that point. Their eyes were staring; half awake; looking toward the man who was speaking.

"Let us not wander. Let us not stray. Lord, please guide us to our place in your Heaven!"

Mason's eyes widened as an old man in preacher's attire walked up to him; his hands folded in front of him.

"My son, what do you have to say for yourself?" The preacher stared down at Mason and Mason's eyes widened.

"Preacher, why are you doing this?" Mason coughed; his body slouching in the grips of the men holding him.

"Listen to his heart speak!" The preacher roared as Mason's mind woke fully. He looked around with wide eyes as he saw his friends all being held down by the Preacher's dirty, redneck men. They all stared at the Preacher as he folded his hands together and looked down at Mason; disappointed. "Why are we doing what? God's work? Why would any man not follow God's word? Why would any man choose to walk to the darkness rather than the light? Why would any man choose suffering over eternal happiness?" He chuckled as Mason stared at him, rage in his eyes, and he sighed. "My questions have answers as obvious as yours. It's the right and glorious thing to do and we have no interest in colluding with Satan… not like you. We will walk in God's light."

"We're all Christians!" Tyler spat and sprung forward; almost pulling away from his captors, but they wrestled him back; bringing him to his knees. The Preacher scowled at him.

"Christians in word, but not action, or belief! You claim you're a Christian, and you claim you believe in God, but how often do you welcome him into your daily life? Hm? How often do you involve him in your decisions?" The Preacher smiled as Tyler said nothing and he nodded. "As I thought."

"This is what you've become!" The Preacher spun and jabbed his finger toward a very rough-looking pen right next to what looked like an old abandoned mine built into a very steep hill. It was put together with what appeared to be a combination of chain-link, and wooden fences. It didn't look very well built and that added to the anxiety. Inside the cage… were at least fifteen corpses; fighting in unison to bust their way out.

"Yes, they are the soulless shells of Godless men. They have been sacrificed by God! Sacrificed so that those who walk in the light of the Lord can again take power over this evil-ridden world and bring back the old ways! The ways of life that God approved of! Free of Atheists, Jews, Negro's, and countless other heathens summoned by the devil himself! We are the chosen ones!" The Preacher raised his hand to the sky. "Lord, let us choose wisely! Give me the strength to know who is evil, who is righteous, and who is filthy! Let it be known!" He closed his eyes; hands still reached toward the sky, and everything was totally silent, save for the muffled sobs from Liz and Aya.

"I have it." The Preacher said and his eyes shot open wide. He turned to Aya and smiled warmly; walking up to her as the tears ran down her cheeks. "Hush." He said softly; brushing his hand through her hair. "God has spoken to me and you have nothing to be afraid of. He will allow you to walk beside him in the kingdom of Heaven." He turned to Liz and reached his hand out to her; smiling at Carter. "And you as well my darling. You and your child will be welcome to God's kingdom to be happy for eternity.

Tyler eyed the Preacher nervously as he spoke. What the hell was he talking about? The guy was obviously way out in left field if he thought he was talking to God and had been granted the power to choose who would go to Heaven and who would go to Hell. But what now? Was he going to let them go, or was he going to make them join his odd-ball church? He had a feeling it would be as strange as the Preacher himself.

"This is a glorious day for you." The Preacher said to the girls and smiled as he walked across the muddy ground toward two young boys who looked to be fourteen or fifteen years old. They were looking at the girls anxiously; rocking back and forth like they had ADHD.

"My sons!" The Preacher slapped his hands together. "Go and do God's work. Let them go with God so that he will continue to shed his light upon us." He patted them both on the shoulders and watched as they walked quickly over to the girls; both of them beaming with energy.

Mason watched quietly; his eyes wide and his heart thumping. He hadn't heard what the Preacher had said, but based off of how the boys were each standing directly in front of a separate girl, he didn't like it one bit. He kept watching as the boys looked at each other, and then lifted their spring jackets and both pulled out revolvers.

"NOOOOOOO!" Tyler, Aaron, and Mason all screamed and sprung forward; trying to get to the girls. They were all violently kicked and beaten; held back from any sort of rescue. They all coughed and spat and they were brought to the ground; their heads pinned to the ground by the soles of boots so they could only watch in terrified agony.

The first boy, the younger looking one with thick, brown hair, cocked the hammer back on his .38 and brought it up to Aya's head as the men who had been holding her down backed away. The tears were running wildly down her face; smearing her makeup. She was terrified and trembling uncontrollably; looking into the eyes of the young boy pointing a pistol at her head and sniffled.

"Please-" **BOOM! **The bullet penetrated just above Aya's left eye; throwing her head back. Her body followed; folding in half backwards, so her legs were under her.

Mason screamed and sobbed as he stared at Aya's motionless body. What had he done? He'd caused this, all of it. If they'd stayed at the High School maybe they'd have had a chance. Now Aya was dead. He could see the brain matter on her face; her eyes staring accusingly at the sky.

The Second boy aimed his gun at Liz and her captors backed away from her. She stroked Carter's arm; trying her best to hold in her tears and ignore Tyler's agonizing screams. She looked up at the boy and tipped her head; taking a deep breath.

"Please, don't hurt my baby." **BOOM! **Liz fell back and slammed into the ground; Carter falling hard out of her arms. He began to wail and Tyler screamed as the boy looked at Liz's face. To everyone's horror, she was still alive. The bullet had entered her face on the left side of her nose; the blood and bone fragments clinging to her cheek. Her hands clawed weakly at nothing as Carter continued to cry heavily beside her; the mud staining his blue shorts and white shirt.

The boy stepped over her and aimed again; cocking back the hammer as the Preacher nodded. He squeezed the trigger and the gun echoed across the land. The bullet penetrating the right side of her forehead this time and her hands stopped moving.

"Throw the infant to the beasts." The Preacher waved his hand at Carter passively. "We need no bastard children here."

The screams and violent wreathing continued as the brown haired boy picked Carter up and began carrying him toward the pen containing the restless corpses. As he got closer and closer, Mason began to puke and Tyler sobbed; letting his weight go as he fainted in the arms of his captors.

Suddenly, to Mason's left, Aaron shoved one of his captors away and head butted the second. As the armed men reeled in surprise, he rushed forward with his eyes locked on the young, brown haired boy. He was going to kill him. It didn't matter what it took, or if Aaron himself got killed. He had to save the baby. How could he live with himself if he didn't try?

A gun echoed and Aaron yelped as he fell forward to the ground. He screamed in pain as he clutched the left side of his stomach. The blood poured profusely from the bullet wound as he clenched his teeth and wreathed uncontrollably on the muddy ground.

"Silly." The preacher said flatly as he turned to the man who had shot Aaron, and nodded. He was a young man with golden hair and a matching golden mustache. "Do him no more harm." The Preacher sighed; waving to his young servant passively. "Do with the child as I said."

The young brown haired boy nodded and continued his short walk to the pen of captive corpses. Carter wailed as he was hoisted like a lifeless satchel and forcibly tossed over the fence. The hands of the corpses grabbed at him desperately as he fell to them and the lifeless creatures pulled at him violently as they grouped around him. In the matter of moments, they began to devour him like addicts to a hit of crack-cocaine. Mason roared louder and drool ran out of his mouth to the ground as he cried in agony. Why? Why this? Why couldn't it have been a bad gunfight, or a car accident? Instead, it was cruel, heartless sadism ordered by a man with no logical mind left inside the depths of his cranium. Mason closed his eyes and let his captors force his face down into the mud as he tried in vain to block out Aaron's painful screams.

"I would like all three of them inside the mine please- Oh, and put the young ladies in the pen too. It seems to keep the creatures relaxed when they've eaten a stomach full." The Preacher's voice was calm. He wasn't even making eye contact with anyone. Rather, he was looking at his two young servants with a large grin as if they had just won a football trophy.

"My dear boys," The preacher reached out his arms and put them around the shoulders of each of the young boys as he turned to a very battered, brown pickup truck, "when we get back to the church, I have the biggest treat for you." He laughed and slapped the boys on their backs excitedly. "You have the will of God running through your veins! With the likes of you, there is no chance that we won't see the way to the future God has planned for us! Now get in the pickup and let's go relax while we can." The Preacher led the boys to his truck and Mason wreathed violently as the vehicle started up and drove away down the large, muddy hill-side.

"You'd better fucking kill me." Mason spat from his pinned position in the mud; he pushed back with all of his might but the men on top of him didn't move. They were too strong for him to move. "If you let me go, I'm coming back to wherever the fuck you are to make you my bitches."

"Shut the fuck up." One of Mason's captors said as he stepped off of Mason's back and aimed an Ar-15 at Mason's head. "Get to your feet boy, or I'll turn all of this mud the same color as your brain."

Mason felt the other man on his back step off and he pulled his face out of the thick mud. He spat as he pushed himself up on his knees and looked at the first man with wicked, enraged eyes.

"Jackson, get that other boy up- they can carry that other dumb-ass together." The first man pointed at Aaron then turned to a couple of the men that had been holding Liz down. "You two can keep working on the pen- they won't get out of there."

"Yeah, no shit." The second man nodded; keeping a bead on Mason's head with a Beretta Cougar 9mm pistol. "Don't see why we don't just shoot 'em right now. It'd make more sense." The man coughed and spat a green loogie on the ground. He turned and looked at the other few men that were shaking Tyler awake aggressively and shook his head before a grin formed on his face. "Damn kids can't even stay awake for the show."

As suddenly as Aaron had darted forward, Mason threw himself into the man with the 9mm and violently shoved him to the ground. Before he could take another step, the man with the AR-15 bashed Mason in the back of the head with the stock of his rifle and Mason's vision flashed a dull white. He fell to his knees and fell forward; his hands slamming into the mud as he reeled from the hard-blow to the back of his skull.

"A whole bunch of dumb fucking bastards!" The man with the AR-15 spat; his eyes angry and accusing. "One more time cowboy and I'm not going to shoot you, I'm going to shoot your squealing buddy over there." Mason looked at him grimly and the man stared back. He leaned down and his eyes burned into Mason's. "Do it… do it. Give me a reason to end that annoying fucking squealing." He wrinkled his upper lip as Mason straightened his back, letting his arms hang loosely, and smiled dully.

"It's going to be fun when I get to kill you." Mason's voice was dull and delirious, but his gaze did not leave the eyes of the arrogant, mustached man. The man just shook his head and looked over all his friends; ignoring Mason's threat entirely.

"All right, get them the fuck up and let's get out of here before more of those God forsaken things wander up and surprise us. I don't want to waste any ammo if we don't have to. Move It!"

Tyler and Mason were forced to their feet at gun-point and together, they help Aaron up. He groaned in pain as it shot through his abdomen, up his back and into his head. The blood still poured from the fresh wound and he pressed on it desperately as he tried to overload his nerves and end the throbbing. It didn't work; the injury was too deep and too severe. He tried desperately to help his friends as they supported each step toward the barren-looking steel door of the mine, but he didn't have the strength; he was losing too much blood.

When they reached the steel doors, one of the men swung them open only to reveal another set of doors a few yards in. All the guns were trained on the young men as they hesitated with grimaces and stark looks of discontent.

"Don't fucking stop! Get your asses in there." The heartless hick with the Ar-15 and mustache slapped Mason on the shoulder. "You're slowing me down fag-lover." Mason eyes shot to the man as he and Tyler helped Aaron inside and the man waved at him sarcastically. "I hope you have fun." The man winked. "Say hello to your family for me." The door swung closed and the young men were confined to the darkness. Outside, the Man with the Ar-15, the man obviously in charge, clapped his hands a few times and nodded as he walked toward one of the several vehicles on the steep hillside.

"Ok people, back to the church; we have a lot planned for the evening!" He looked at the two men who had pinned Liz down prior to her abrupt execution. "Tommy, Cole, re-enforce that pen; we don't need those things getting out of there. I don't need the hassle of rounding a bunch more up again. Come back when you're sure it's good." He nodded. "Everyone else hit the perimeter as usual and make sure we don't have any compromises in the fence. Let's go." With that, all the men save for the two workers headed for their vehicles. They had plenty of work followed by mass inside the church. They had busy lives, and the salvation of man-kind to deal with.

* * *

Inside the mine, Mason lit his Zippo. It was the only light inside their new-found prison. No one said anything, Mason just rolled Aaron onto his back and looked at the wound as closely as he could with his tiny torch and wrinkled his eye brows.

"How bad?" Aaron coughed; doing his best not to look at the injury, or Mason's expression. Tyler was doing the same. He was staring at his hands emotionlessly; just trying to understand what had just happened to them in the unexpected blink of an eye.

"I can't tell." Mason said calmly. He was camouflaging his emotions very effectively, but he was in the same condition as his friends. Instead of letting them come at him like a tidal wave, he was dealing with the task at hand instead. When he had a minute, he'd deal with the anger, loss, and sorrow. Right now, all that mattered was a life that he could actually save. Mason looked at the wound closely again, then looked at Aaron directly. "Does it hurt in the front AND the back?"

"Uh," Aaron grimaced, "I can't tell, it all fucking hurts." He couldn't believe it. He'd never imagined something hurting so badly. He'd been in a motorcycle accident years before and as a result has broken nearly every bone on the right side of his body. It didn't compare .Something about a tiny projective tearing through the body just made everything so much worse.

"Ok, I'm going to reach under you and feel for an exit wound. If I find it, we'll probably both know pretty quickly. You ready?"

"Mhm." Aaron nodded and Mason reached under him. He searched along Aaron's back for a moment before suddenly Aaron shrieked in pain and his body bucked violently. His legs stiffened and Mason pulled his hand away with a pleased nod.

"That jackass hit you in a great spot with what was probably a full metal jacket. You're fucking lucky- but only for a little while if I can't stop that fucking bleeding."

"How the fuck are we going to get out of here?" Tyler suddenly asked with a desperate, empty voice. He was staring at the steel door that had barred them inside with frustrated eyes. Mason searched for him through the darkness that his lighter hardly penetrated and he shook his head; fighting to not let the recollection of what had happened outside overwhelm him and break him down.

"We're going to walk out… right now." Mason said firmly. He climbed to his feet and glanced at both Aaron and Tyler, then at the door in front of them that led deeper into the mine.

"No gun, no knife, no shit, with a guy we've got to fucking carry through a fucking mine that's probably packed with flesh hungry ghouls!" Tyler roared; his eyes burning deep into Mason. He didn't want to move. What for? So he could carry on in a world where religious people tried to murder you for reasons that they made up while masturbating to gay kiddy porn? So he could watch more people her cared for get passively executed and fed to the dead like it was an everyday thing? Fuck that. He would rather let it go right now. His mind couldn't take any more abuse.

"I don't want to live right now either man, but I'm trying my fucking damndest right now to not think of what just happened." Tears began to run from his eyes. "Right now, all I care about is getting out of this fucking mine shaft and killing those fuckers." He shook his head. "We can die right after that, but I want to make sure those fuckers die before I do. Those two kids," Mason clenched his teeth as Tyler stared into his eyes, "I'm going to soak them in oil and burn them alive"-

"Fuck that," Aaron spat, "Skin them alive. I want them staring into our eyes as they scream in agony." He felt the emotional loss as well, though maybe not quite as much as his two friends who had been in love with the girls. He had never imagined an end as horrific as the one delivered to Carter. He was an innocent, sinless baby. Yet, those monsters had murdered him like his was some sort of savage guilty of harming others.

"Let's get out of this place, then we can fucking die in peace." Mason said with a shrug of one shoulder. He had nothing to live for. After all, there was no chance his parents had gotten themselves to the green-zone. If he made it there, he'd be alone in the world. What was the point in that? It's not like he'd meet some pretty girl who respected what he was all about again. He'd met one of those in his entire 24 years. It was unlikely that he'd find another.

"Okay…" Tyler nodded; seemingly losing his mind as he sat staring at his feet. "But if they have babies, let's not kill them."

"Good idea." Mason looked at the steel door that led to the abyss. He took a deep breath and his head snapped to attention. "Ok, think of every movie you've ever seen with an old mine in it…" He trailed off. "I can only think of Rambo, but I know there was an exit. Plus, if these fuckers didn't personally clean this place out before they put a whole bunch of dead people in it, there will be shit lying around." Mason stepped up to the steel set of doors and studied them for a moment; running his hands over them. "Ok, this door is original." He turned to the large door that led to the outside and ran his hands over it. He grabbed the handle and shoved his shoulder into it with all of his strength. "Won't budge, but it looks like they put this door on here." His eyes scanned all around it and he nodded unconsciously. He slammed his body-weight into it again and he let out a disgruntled gasp; knowing that even if he forced it down, there were likely a couple guys outside who would shoot them down in an instant. He stepped back and crossed his arms. "Ok," Mason sighed, "feel around for anything we can use as"-

"Here's a loose two by four." Tyler said from the darkness. "It feels pretty sturdy. There are some rocks around me too. I can't see, though. Use your lighter."

Mason lit his Zippo again and the dim light lit up the small room; revealing little that could be effectively used as a weapon. There were several soft-ball-sized rocks, and some more pieces of scrap wood, but it seemed that Tyler had grabbed the only one large enough to be used effectively.

"I guess I'm taking a rock." Mason said; unimpressed. Tyler handed him a rock and Mason tipped his head and then shook it.

"How the fuck are you going to drag me through there?" Aaron groaned. "You have to leave me here, you're not dying for me."

"Well, there's the beauty." Mason grunted. "You get to stay here, safe and sound, while Tyler and I find a way out of this fucker. When we do, we'll come and open up the door there so we only have to carry your dumb ass outside. Good with you?"

"Yeah." Aaron laughed painfully. "Yeah, that's good." He had no intentions of protesting. He was becoming tired and knew he only had so much time before he'd go into shock and die. He couldn't let that happen. Tyler and Mason had lost enough already and he didn't want to add to the long, painful list of grievances. If he could help it, he'd get through this one and help fight the good fight another day. It was the least he could do to help the two guys that had befriended him without hesitation and provided him with the means to save himself and make it home.

"Let's go." Tyler grunted from the darkness where he was sitting. He needed to move and do something. He couldn't deal with restlessness; especially considering how his mind was looping the images of Liz, Aya, and Carter being murdered while he was helplessly subdued. He had to act, or his own emotions would deteriorate and kill him long before the corpses even had the chance to.

"Right," Mason nodded at Tyler and stepped up to the door. "You better get up and be ready then. And you-" Mason looked at Aaron. "I know you're hurting man, but you have to close this door behind us or you're going to be a late night snack before we have the chance to come back and get you." He felt terrible as he watched Aaron clench his teeth and sit up. "Just do it this one time, dude, because I don't want to lose you too. It's too much."

"I got it, I got it." Aaron croaked. He painfully scooted himself closer to the door and propped himself into the sitting position with one arm behind him. Tyler stepped past him and up to Mason.

"Let's kill them all." Tyler said blankly. "I want blood all over me before the night ends."

"Amen." Mason said unapologetically. "Let's get through this fucker first, though." Mason looked at Aaron. "You close this fucker hard behind us, man. We'll see you on the other side."

"Just go." Aaron waved at them passively. "Hit it hard, fellas."

Mason pulled the door open and Tyler stepped in before he could protest. Tyler stopped dead inside the shaft and Mason almost ran into him as the door shut firmly behind them.

"I can't see a fucking thing." Tyler's voice chattered. He looked back at the door then down the shaft again nervously. There was a dim amount of light penetrating the darkness of the mine-shaft before them, but it wasn't nearly enough to make anything visible. He shuffled forward a few feet, using the rough wall of the shaft as a guide, and paused. "Did you hear something?" Tyler whispered. His hands began to shake and he felt himself becoming nauseous. They were armed with barbarian weapons: sticks and stones. If more than a few corpses came down the shaft at once, they would be overwhelmed. Even if they didn't die, at least one of them would be bitten. That end was much worse than death.

"Keep going." Mason said almost inaudibly. He was perspiring heavily and the salty beads of sweat were running down his forehead into his eyes; forcing him to wipe them away with his forearm every few moments to keep away the unbearable sting. He stepped past Tyler and searched the darkness for any movement.

Tyler's ears perked as a muffled moan drifted down the mine-shaft. His legs immediately began to shake uncontrollably and he looked at Mason with wide eyes. Mason looked back at him just as seriously and took a deep, shaky breath. He was just as frightened. His hands were trembling and his breathing had become uneven; shaken by the heavy flow of adrenaline making its course through his system. His eyes continued to search the flowing darkness, but there was nothing but uninterrupted blackness.

Without a word, Tyler stepped forward into the darkness and Mason grunted in surprise. He shuffled after Tyler slowly; too nervous to call out for him to wait. It was useless anyhow. Tyler's mind-set was a mutilated compilation of hatred, depression, and complete loss. The fear had pushed him over the edge.

Tyler moved forward more quickly than before. His nervous shakes were gone, now replaced by those caused by his uncontrollable adrenal-gland. His eyes were wide and danced back and forth; searching for anything through the mass of swarming nothing before him. He felt a flood of relief as the mine-shaft began to curve to the right and he saw more beams of light reveal the rocky walls and ground before him. He could hear Mason behind him trying to catch up and he knew he should wait, but the light gave him a new sense of confidence. Maybe the way out was closer than he had ever imagined. Maybe there weren't that many corpses inside. If there were many, it wouldn't matter if he went slowly anyway. If he went back into the darkness, they would simply follow and devour him as they had done to Carter. He continued forward as he heard Mason's feet behind him. He followed the rocky wall further and further around the curve and then stopped suddenly. He frowned and tugged his hair lightly; looking at his feet. The mine-shaft branched off to the right as well as continuing on straight ahead; making everything more confusing and stacking the odds against him ten-fold. If he took a wrong turn he could run into a dead-end. Then again, he might run into a dead-end either way and "dead-end" in this scenario was literal.

"Don't fuckin' run off like that!" Mason snapped in a whisper. Tyler turned and looked at him blankly and turned back to the branching tunnel. He crossed his arms. He was in no mood to argue with Mason. He was simply too high on himself to listen to anything Tyler had to say anyway. Maybe if Mason hadn't been with all along, none of this violence would have ensued. Maybe everything would have just gone smoothly and Tyler would have made it to Hallock by now in one piece with no horrific experiences that would be detrimental to his well being. Maybe Mason was the cause of every problem Tyler had run into.

"Jesus…" Tyler squeezed the base of his nose and clenched his eyes shut. He knew what was happening to him; his mental state was breaking down. If it went too far, he wouldn't be able to continue. He'd simply lock up.

"What now?" Mason cocked an eye brow. He looked at Tyler for a moment but quickly put his focus back onto the tunnels before them.

"I'm losing my head in a crisis." Tears ran down Tyler's cheeks and he leaned against the wall. As he cried lightly, a figure stepped out of the darkness from the right branch-off.

"Tyler!" Mason barked and shot forward. He slammed into the corpse as Tyler fell back and Mason pinned the corpse against the wall; pressing his left forearm into the side of its head and dropping his stone to the floor. It began to pull violently and snap its jaws as it tried desperately to take a bite out of him, but Mason stood fast as he shouldered all of his weight against it. "Come on, man, help me!" Mason yelled in terror.

Tyler climbed to his feet and raised the piece of wood, but before he could do anything, another corpse came alarmingly fast from the darkness with its eyes locked on Mason. Tyler charged forward with the 2x4 raised and brought it down onto the corpse's head with all of his strength. It hesitated for a moment, but continued forward with its arms stretched out; grabbing desperately at Tyler's shirt. He jumped back and wound up like the 2x4 was a baseball bat. He swung hard and the end of the piece of wood impacted the side of the corpse's head.

"Come on, man!" Mason croaked. His eyes searched the ground at his feet; He could barely make out the rock by his left boot. He groaned in frustration and drug the corpse to the ground with him. With its head free, it grabbed at his arms and fought to release its neck from Mason's determined grip, but he was too strong, "Mother fucker!" Mason spat as his left hand searched for the stone. The corpse was grabbing and pulling violently on his right arm that was desperately holding it back and Mason's muscles were straining. His arm began to shake; warning that it was about to give out when Tyler delivered another heavy blow to the corpse he was facing off with. Finally, it fell sideways and tumbled to the ground in a lifeless pile. He turned to Mason's pinned body and swung the 2x4 again; connecting with the corpse's face. It fell backwards and before he could do anything, Mason grabbed his stone and crawled onto the corpse's chest.

Mason roared as he raised the rock. He slammed it down on the corpse's face again and again; spewing black-colored, goopy blood every. It oozed out of the corpse's face like gelled diesel-fuel as the weight of the stone forced its facial bones inward and its skull's contents outward.

Tyler's head snapped to attention as another moan penetrated the seemingly endless tomb. Another shadow was coming down the mine-shaft and several more were appearing from behind it.

"Mother fuckers!" Mason roared and threw his stone down the shaft toward the shuffling shadows. It disappeared into the darkness beyond the approaching dead.

"Fuck, there's too many of them!" Tyler barked; raising the 2x4 over his shoulder. "Fucking shit!" He backed up a few steps as Mason climbed to his feet and stepped followed him slowly.

"Go down the other way." Mason said as calmly as he could, but his voice was shaking noticeably. Slipping past the corpses was out of the question. There were too many in too closed of an area. If there were even more of them past the one's already in the way, Tyler and Mason would be closed in and slowly devoured. The risk was too high.

"You better start moving and making sure there aren't a bunch of assholes down that way." Mason swallowed. He was eyeing a dead woman very closely. Her head was cocked sideways ghoulishly and her mouth was opening and closing very slowly. Mason's eyes locked onto her with his face locked in a modified expression of awed horror.

"I'm on it." Tyler turned away from the corpses and glanced down the opposite tunnel. He grunted in surprise when a very large, very overweight corpse stepped up to him with a slow, stiff step. Tyler brought the 2x4 across his head and knocked him sideways. He stumbled but he kept his footing. Tyler slammed him again in the side of the neck and a muffled pop erupted from beneath his skin. His body hit the dirt and Tyler stepped over him quickly.

"It's going to get dark fast in this fucker!" Tyler chirped energetically. His heart was beating so fast he could hardly keep his balance.

"Just keep moving," Mason swallowed. He was still facing the corpses; keeping an eye on him as he walked backwards. "There's got to be something down there- there better be something down there, or we're fucked man, we're fucked."

"I can't see a fucking thing!" Tyler yelled at the top of his lungs. The dim amount of light that had lit the intersection was completely gone. He couldn't tell which way was front or which way was back. As far as he knew, there were fifteen corpses in front of him.

"Here!" Mason pulled his shirt over his head and moved forward until he ran into Tyler. He fumbled while he grabbed for the end of the 2x4 and he tied his shirt around it tightly. He pulled his Zippo out of his pocket and struck the flint; lighting up the mine-shaft and quickly setting the black, bloodied t-shirt ablaze. "Now move!" Mason screamed. They both took off running down the tunnel; knowing that if they ran into a dead end, they would have no chance of escape. This time, they were completely out of options.

Mason took the lead quickly; gaining yard or two of distance between him and Tyler. His mind was in frenzy, like he was caught on the top floor of a large, burning building. He had no idea what he was doing, or where he was going. All he knew was that he had to keep moving and he had to do something.

Mason screamed and Tyler's eyes widened as Mason slammed into the corpse of an old man. He held onto Mason tightly as they fell to the ground together and began wresting violently. Mason's adrenaline roared and his primal rage began boiling as he grabbed the corpse under its chin with one hand and around the top of its head with the other. He let out a violently driven roar as he forced its head back beyond its capacity to bend. After a moment, its neck snapped and its head fell to the side- its eyes still looking around desperately. Mason let go of the corpse and Tyler's alert voice snapped him to attention.

* * *

"There's another couple right there!" Tyler's voice yipped nervously. He looked at the torch and swallowed. Another couple of minutes and the torch would be out completely and he'd have to surrender his own shirt to keep the fire-light burning. Not much could be worse than being naked and wrestling with the dead. Only Mason would know.

Mason climbed to his feet and looked around at the floor desperately. His eyes went back to the old man. He was wearing a tool belt. The handle of a hammer and a long screw driver were visibly protruding. He bent over the body and pulled out the hammer. It was a ball-peen type with a rounded end on one side. He nodded excitedly and pulled out the screw-driver. It was a standard-type; perfect for stabbing. He looked at the torch then back at the corpse. Fuck taking anymore of his own clothes off. He ripped the utility shirt off of the corpse then tore it into two pieces and carefully wrapped a piece around the end of the torch; revitalizing its life and its brightness and exposing more of the area before them.

"Look!" Tyler pointed. The tunnel ended and opened up into a wide corridor. There were wheel-barrels, shelves, and other random things throughout the open area beyond the several corpses approaching, but there was more. There was an old wooden gate on rusted hinges at the mouth of the large room. If anything, it would slow down the approaching corpses and give Mason and Tyler a chance to compose themselves, or find weapons.

"I've got fat man." Mason grunted confidently; raising the ball-peen hammer and looking at Tyler with a raised eye brow.

"Gotcha," Tyler nodded, "I'll take Cinderella." Tyler eyed the other corpse; a beaten and frail-looking young woman who resembled a veteran meth-addict covered with sores and cursed with tired, blackened eyes. She didn't look like she'd put up much of a fight.

"Ok, go!" Mason rushed forward at the fat, hardly mobile corpse directly in front of him. He slammed into its mid-section and brought it to the ground hard; rolling away before it could grapple him. He ran came forward quickly and jumped on top of it; reigning blow after blow onto its face with the hammer as it clawed his exposed chest.

To Mason's right, Tyler approached his target. The girl shambled up to him slowly; raising one badly bruised arm. The other appeared to be broken and inoperable. Tyler glanced around for a weapon and then looked at the torch. He shrugged pessimistically and stuck it against her abdomen. The fire quickly caught on her shirt and set her ablaze. It spread down her pants and soon her entire body was engulfed in flames. Tyler stepped back in amazement as the corpse seemed to completely lose interest in him. It flailed helplessly as it tried to escape the fire and after a moment, it fell to the floor and clawed at the ceiling as the fire ate away at its body.

"Hit the gate!" Mason voice commanded from over Tyler's shoulder. He turned around and his stomach churned as he saw the corpses in pursuit of them approaching at an alarming speed. Both he and Mason shot forward and grabbed the old, wooden gate; slamming it shut just as they reached it.

"This lock sucks!" Mason grunted as he put all of his strength into keeping the gate closed and trying desperately to latch the 40-plus year-old lock on the gate. It was so rusting that he could hardly move it. After a moment of fumbling, he managed to latch it and he slid the screw-driver through the steel lock-loop; securing it for the time being.

"They don't like fire." Tyler said as-a-matter-of-factly as Mason spun around; looking for more possible weapons. His eyes locked onto the wall where there was an old oil-drum full of assorted tools and several drums containing unknown substances.

"Huh?" Mason glanced at him passively; not caring really. "No one likes fire." He looked inside the oil-drum and grabbed an axe-handle. As he raised it, the blade fell off into the bottom of the drum. "Fuck."

"No, they really don't fucking like fire. It's like… their kryptonite. When I lit that bitch up, she totally fucked off. She just curled up into a ball." He pointed at the corpse's body. "She's still ticking, but she's not trying to get up."

"Yeah." Mason nodded; looking at the female corpse's body on the ground. She was moving slightly, but not trying to get up and attack anyone. Mason eyes shot to the several chemical containers lining the wall and taking up several places on the shelf. "Come on, there's got to be something here that'll still light up!"

Tyler ran up beside Mason and began pulling containers off of the shelf. Most of them were empty and some of them felt like whatever had been inside had solidified. He pushed a bunch of stuff on the shelf in desperate frustration and his arm bumped one of the small containers. He heard a liquid slosh around inside and he grabbed it excitedly.

"I got nothing here!" Mason yelled nervously. "We're fucking dry!"

Behind them, the hinges on the gate broke off of the wall from the weight of the corpses forces themselves against it. Mason spun around with wide eyes and to his relief, a steel rod protruding from the bottom of the gate slammed into the dirt; jamming the gate shut. Mason sprinted to the gate and slammed the bottom of his boot down onto one of the wooden planks. It dug the steel-rod deeper into the ground; holing the gate in place for firmly. It would only be a few more moments before the entire gate collapsed and then they would have to place to run. No place to run from the grips of at least sixteen dead ghouls.

"I got Kerosene here!" Tyler turned away from the set of shelves and shook the old steel kerosene tank over his shoulder. He ran up to the gate and unscrewed the cap. He splashed the kerosene all over the gate and onto the corpses eagerly pressing themselves against it. He shook it until the last drop came out and he looked at Mason with a firm nod.

"Just wait." Mason curled his lip in anger. Let them all push their dumb asses into it. I want to smell the fuckers." He clenched his teeth.

"Come on, let me light 'em up! Come on, Should I light 'em up!?" Tyler looked at them with wide, enraged eyes. He wanted to watch them burn. He'd never wanted to watch anything burn in agony so badly.

"Let 'em burn." Mason whispered.

Tyler stuck the torch to the Kerosene and flames slowly spread; fueled by the fumes of the Kerosene fuel. The flames ate their way onto every corpse that had its weight against the gate and after a moment, they began flailing against one another; trying in vain to escape the devouring heat. Mason and Tyler watched in awe as the corpses forgot about the gate and began acting like mindless animals intent only on saving themselves.

"It looks like we got ourselves a new special kind of weapon." Mason smirked. "I could use a fucking cigarette right about now."

Tyler squealed in surprise as he was grabbed from behind. He jumped away and turned around. The female zombie he'd started on fire was up and ready to continue her search for food. Mason hit her in the face with a left-hook and knocked her to the ground and Tyler finished her off with a few strong stomps to the head. They both turned back to the burnt gate and Mason raised his eye brows.

"It can never be a quick fix." Tyler spat as Mason handed him the second piece of cloth from the old-man corpse's shirt and he wrapped it around the end of the torch.

"It looks like they're down and out for a minute, though." Mason turned back to the oil-drum by the shelves. "Maybe we can put them down for good before they regain their composure." He ran over to the oil drum and began pulled different tools out of it. He pulled out an old hack-saw and threw it to the side and then smiled as he pulled out a sledge-hammer. He turned to Tyler. "How's this?"

"Well," Tyler shrugged and walked over to the wall on the far-left side of the room. He grabbed something that Mason couldn't see and turned back to him. He turned back around and held up a pick-axe. "This might be a little bit better."

"Fuck yeah." Mason grunted and walked up to Tyler with his hand extended. Tyler handed him the pick axe and he eyed it like some sort of trophy "Let's do this shit fast. I want to get out of this motherfucker, now."

They both approached the gate and grabbed it by the top plank. It easily ripped off of its frame and fell to the ground at their feet. They looked over the corpses calmly for a minute before Mason huffed up his bare chest and nodded at Tyler.

"Just keep your eye on them all, man. I'll do the rest."

"I got it," Tyler nodded. "It's all done, man."

Mason instantly began his pick-axe wielding massacre. He moved from corpse to corpse and dropped the pointed pick onto each face as they squirmed on the dirt floor. The blood spewed from their gaping wounds like motor-oil; staining the ground for eternity. It took only minutes for Mason to raise the pick one more time and deliver that final, detrimental blow.

"That's it. It's all done with." Mason stepped away from the decimated skull he'd just shattered and leaned against the wall. He looked at Tyler with tired, beaten eyes. Tyler's were the same. Now that the adrenaline was gone, all that flooded their systems was loss accompanied by a constant flow of guilt caused by un-hindered killing and the destruction of other humans and those that resembled humans. There were no words to be spoken.

"We have to get out of here." Tyler grumbled. The torch was going out and they didn't have much of anything left to keep it burning with.

"Well I don't know where to fucking go. Do you know where to fucking go? You're the fucking expert on everything, right?" The impatience between the two had returned. For the moment, it seemed they didn't need one another. Now, company was just a hindrance.

"Yeah, that's fucking right. I have all the fucking answers, and you just do retarded shit all the fucking time that gets people killed. You and your need to fucking prove something every ten fucking minutes. What is it, because you're from fucking Texas? You have to prove you got big fucking balls!? Don't mess with Texas, right?" He glared at Mason and Mason just shook his head.

"At least I do something. All you fucking do is complain about every wrong turn you take. Fuck you, man. Fuck you and whatever the hell you're going home for." Tears ran down Mason's cheeks and he turned away; huffing up his chest. "What-the-fuck-ever, I don't give a fuck. We're not dying down in this bitch."

"Shut up." Tyler dropped the burnt out torch. "Listen." Both of them held their breaths for a moment. A slight cool breeze was coming through the shaft. "Do you feel that?"

"I don't feel shit?" Mason spat. Tyler just shook his head; irritated.

"I'm not surprised." Tyler said smartly. "I feel a breeze- like outside air is coming in." They both paused for another moment and Mason spoke up.

"Yeah, I think I feel that too." Mason lit up his Zippo and Tyler began moving deeper onto the vast, rocky room.

"It's coming from over here somewhere." Tyler moved along the end of the room; holding his hand out in front of his chest to try to feel the cool air. He stopped in front of a steel bucket that was installed on a tourney in the stone-wall. He pulled it back and reached his hand inside. He looked back at Mason and nodded. "It's coming from in here." He stepped away from it and Mason stepped up beside him. "I bet there's a shaft that leads up to the surface of the hill right there. That bucket isn't big enough to hold me, though."

"Let's tear it the fuck out of there then." Mason gave the bucket a kick and shrugged. "If that shaft ain't big enough, then we'll find a different fucking way."

"Yes, because everything's that fucking simple." Tyler said sarcastically. He sighed and shook his head and looked around. "We need something to pry this out with."

"Well this pick and that sledge hammer over there look elaborate enough." Mason looked at the pick axe, then at the bucket. He wasn't sure how the thing was fastened to the wall. It couldn't be too technical.

"Ok, give me that pick and go grab the hammer." Tyler looked at Mason sternly and Mason handed him the pick then walked over to where the sledge hammer was lying on the floor. He picked it up tiredly and walked back over to the box.

"Now what, boss?" Mason asked sarcastically. "Want me to grab anything else for you?"

"No," Tyler said impatiently. "If we can bust these bolts on the inside, then we can get this thing out of here and we might have a way out of this hell-hole." He stepped away from the bucket with his hands on his hips and looked at it hopefully.

"Ok," Mason sighed, "take break."

"Huh?" Tyler looked at him with a cocked eye. He was tired of the sarcasm.

"I'm serious," Mason shrugged, "I'm sorry, ok? I know I've been fucking with everyone since the first move. I'm fucking sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Tyler frowned. He tipped his head. This wasn't any time or someone to spill their guts. Mason was acting like a drunken girl.

"Listen, all I'm saying is that I'm sorry." Mason said seriously. "I know that all this shit is because… because I think I'm Rambo or some fucking thing."

"You want to talk about this right now? Really?" Tyler hit the bucket with the pick axe. "Let's get this out of here and then we can talk about feelings all you want."

"Yeah…" Mason trailed off and looked at the rusted old bucket stuck in the wall. Tyler was right. This wasn't the time or place for someone to spill their guts. They still had a hell of a lot to do before they were out from between a rock and a hard place. The corpses had probably been the easy part- though had it not been for the gate and the kerosene, they likely would have become an evening snack for the empty souls.

Tyler raised the pick-axe and brought it down on the side of the bucket's mouth. It shook and vibrated, but held still as Tyler grimaced from the unexpected recoil that shot through his hands.

"Too bad quality was so great back in the day, huh?" Mason said dryly and raised the sledge-hammer. He swung and slammed the hammer head down on the bucket and the impact forced a larger dent in the old steel.

"Looks like yours is better than mine, as usual." Tyler looked down toward his groin and Mason snickered.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Smaller is more energetic and easier to upkeep." The smile faded from his face as the humor left the open room. The joking of sex was quick to bring their lost female friends to mind; both from long ago and from gut-wrenchingly recent.

"Looks like I had my last lay long ago, huh?" Tyler sighed sadly as Mason raised the sledge hammer again. He didn't respond to Tyler's depressed sarcasm. There was little to say that could remove the awkwardness or the reality of the situation they were in, nor to dull the pain of the loss they'd so vividly experienced in the blink of an eye.

Mason dropped the head of the sledge hammer down on the bucket again; this time toward the right side. The bucket made a steely popping sound and shifted as the one of the bolts broke and released its hold.

"We're in business." Tyler grunted confidently and bent over. He grabbed the mouth of the bucket firmly and pulled strongly; trying to force it out of its stable position inside the rocky wall. It bent slightly, but the steel was too thick too bring it out enough for anyone to fit inside the rocky gap.

"Fuck, it's too sturdy." Tyler slapped the dirt from his hands and straightened his back.

"Back up." Mason swallowed and Tyler stepped away. Mason raised the sledge-hammer above his head and brought it down onto the bucket with all of his might and the grimace of Conan the Barbarian. The bucket shifted and fell out of its frame and Mason raised his eye brows. "Hope that's it."

Tyler grabbed the edge of the bucket and yanked with gritted teeth. The bucket tipped forward and fell to the ground on its side. Now the breeze was really shooting in and it dried the sweat from their worn-out bodies as they breathed heavily from physical and mental exhaustion.

"I don't even want to look." Mason shook his head and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "My Karma is too bad for this shit."

"Tell me about it." Tyler responded coyly and crouched down. He stuck his head in the hole where the bucket had sat and looked upward. "I can fit inside, but it's as steep as a mother fucker."

"Yeah, mother fuckers are steep." Mason crouched down beside Tyler. "Here, let me look." Tyler moved out of the way and Mason looked up through the thin tunnel that ran up to the surface. There wasn't much light coming in. The opening was probably partially blocked. There was no telling if they'd be able to get out.

"We might not be able to get out," Mason shook his head, "not to mention that we might not even be able to climb this fucking thing." He'd climbed plenty of trees as a kid, but forcing your body into a thin tunnel and trying to climb straight up was a different ball game. Climbing back down if they could get out would probably be even a bigger challenge. Falling from the top of the tunnel to the rocky ground below would likely result in a broken ankle, or leg; something they couldn't afford.

"I'm taking what I can get." Tyler said dryly. He turned and grabbed the pick-axe; causing Mason mouth to curl into a doubtful smirk.

"How do you plan on bringing that up with you? Are you going to tie it to your ankle?" Mason snickered and Tyler glared at him before scooting himself into the hole and standing inside it.

"I don't know," Tyler's voice came muffled from inside the tunnel. "I'm not going up there with something I can crush a fucking skull with."

Mason raised his eye brows. Tyler was right. They couldn't just crawl out and expect any armed stragglers to just give up. Tyler and he would have to use hand-held bludgeoning tools to kill their victims. Mason lit his Zippo and turned around. He'd had that hammer from the dead old man, but he'd misplaced it somewhere along the way. He wandered toward the gate and spotted it. It was lying beside the fat corpse he'd beaten into a pulp. The ball-peen head was caked with a blackish pulp. He grabbed it off of the ground and slipped it into his belt. Now he had a weapon. He turned back to the escape tunnel and took a deep breath, but froze as a moan echoed through the room.

Mason spun around and his eyes widened. There was a corpse passing by the bodies at the mouth of the room. There were many other shadows approaching behind it.

"Tyler, go up that fucking tunnel right now!" Mason sprinted toward the escape tunnel and crawled inside its mouth. Tyler was a few feet up toward the exit-hole already- using his legs to brace himself against the back side of the tunnel and slowly force himself upward. He looked down at Mason's terrified face and he swore under his breath.

"We have a whole fucking bunch more down here and they're going to be eating my stupid, slow ass in a second if you don't fucking move it!" Mason glanced behind himself and his teeth began chattering as Tyler picked up his slow climbing speed.

"I'm going, I'm going!" Tyler barked; grimacing in pain as the rocky surface of the tunnel tore into his back. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move fast. If he did, he'd lose his grip and fall back to the ground below. Considering the situation, that would prove to be a bad thing.

"Jesus!" Mason whined as Tyler finally got high enough into the tunnel for Mason to begin his ascent toward salvation. He quickly jammed himself inside and began scooting himself vertically toward the surface. He quickly gained on Tyler and began to shutter uncontrollably as he got too close to climb anymore. He was still close enough to the ground for the average person to be able to reach his legs. "Tyler, you son of a bitch," Mason screamed, "why'd you have to bring a fucking pick axe!?"

"Well you fucking take it then!" Tyler had the pick axe between his legs. He opened them slightly and let the pick axe fall through. The butt of the handle hit Mason in the face and Mason swore as Tyler took off faster toward the surface.

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that!?" Mason held the handle of the pick axe with one hand and extended it up above him so it wouldn't impede on his movement. As Tyler ascended much more quickly, Mason kept up to him; his adrenaline rushing him without relief as the mouth of the tunnel began to creep away from him steadily.

"Another foot-" Mason screamed as a set of hands grabbed his thigh firmly and began tugging on him. He looked down with wide eyes and began yelling in terror as a corpse below him moaned aggressively and tried to pull him down. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" Mason screamed as he pried at his fingers. Its arm strength wasn't enough to break his foot-hold against the rocky wall. He propped the pick-axe against the wall and grabbed at its fingers. He broke them two by two; holding its hand with one hand and forcing its fingers backward violently with the other. After a moment, its last fingers were snapped in half and its grip was completely lost. Mason shot upward and began grunting and mewing in relieved terror as the corpse got further and further below him.

"Did it bite you!?" Tyler called from above with evident fear in his voice. Mason sounded like he was injured.

"Close, but no cigar." Mason's voice cracked as his chest heaved. It seemed he wasn't able to pull of sarcastic humor at the moment.

"You ok?" Tyler paused and looked down between his legs at Mason's shadow.

"Yes, perfectly fine you fucking idiot." Mason's voice shook. He stopped below Tyler and lit his Zippo. He looked down toward the mouth of the tunnel then up at Tyler's face. "I know we've been through a lot in the past hour, man, and I know it's hard as a mother fucker to climb this bitch; but if you don't mind, I'd rather not spend the rest of the spring… STUCK IN THIS FUCKING MINE SHAFT!"

"Right." Tyler looked back up at the exit-hole. It was a good fifteen feet up still. He strained painfully as he forced himself upward. He was beginning to lose the feeling in both his legs and his back and wasn't sure if he body was actually capable of getting up the remainder of the tunnel. It would be a sadly silly ending to tumble down to the entrance and get devoured. He switched his focus to the exit; only a few more feet.

Tyler reached his hand up as he reached the partially covered opening at the top of the tunnel and touched the debris that was blocking the way.

"It's just some old wooden planks." Tyler whispered and he slammed the palm of his hand against one. It broke free easily and he moved on to the next two quickly; shoving them completely out of the way without the least bit of strain.

"Are you going to be able to pull yourself out ok?" Mason asked calmly from below. He knew he was feeling the pain from the climb, and that meant Tyler was too. Tyler looked down at him and let out a tired, desperate sigh.

"Well I'd fucking better be able to after all of that shit." Tyler reached his hands up and grabbed the edge of the exit hole. He gritted his teeth and he pulled his body to the surface and collapsed onto the brown, spring grass. Mason threw the pick-axe up through the hole and climbed out moments later and did the same as Tyler; closing his eyes for a moment as his breathing slowed down from heaving to slow, deep gasps.

"I'm going to kill them all." Tyler said in a slightly mad tone. "I'm going to kill their fucking kids. I'm going cut them open and eat their fucking insides."

"That wouldn't be pleasant." Mason sat up and looked around. He could see the pen in all of its hick-glory. The grounds where Liz and Aya had been put to death were out of his view; blocked by the vastness of hill that was the mine. He couldn't see any vehicles, but he knew there had to be someone around. There was always the possibility that they'd been spotted immediately during their escape, but it wasn't likely. The lack of professionalism in their captors would have driven them to shoot at Tyler and Mason on sight. Mason got on all fours like a wild-beast and glanced at Tyler.

"I think we have the upper hand, Thompson." Mason climbed began crawling through the grass slowly and Tyler grabbed the pick-axe and followed. They slowly crawled forward until the rest of the killing grounds were in view and a lone pickup came into sight. It wasn't running, but a cab light was on. Tyler could see the left shoulder of a man.

"I'm going to kill the driver." Tyler looked at Mason and swallowed. "I don't care what you do, but I'm killing the driver."

"Leave the other alive." Mason said emotionlessly as he stared at the truck with a cold glare. "I have some things I want to ask him."

"No problem." Tyler said calmly in a cool, relaxed tone. "No problem at all."

"I didn't imagine it would be. We don't want to spoil the night before it even begins now do we?" Mason rubbed his nose and took a deep breath. "Ok… quick and quiet until we get up there. I'll follow your lead. Once you go for the driver, I'll go for the passenger. You kill him and I'll immobilize the passenger."

"Ok." Tyler nodded without emotion. There no longer seemed any question in his moral judgment. He didn't have to justify anything in his mind anymore to make the killing seem reasonable and ok. No, now it was all previously justified; set in stone by the unjust actions of evil men.

Zach Knutson took a drag of his hand –rolled cigarette as his partner for the night, Wally Horst, spewed out limitless garbage about what his plans were before the end of the world had started. Zach nodded and grunted every few seconds to confirm he was listening to Wally's bullshit. All the while, in reality he could have cared less about how badly Wally's life had been fucked up. Zach had his own issues: A wife he hadn't really loved who'd been killed on day one, his parents he'd stopped talking to after graduation that were more than likely dead or walking around. Neither of those things bothered him as much as much as they should have; at least not according to what any average person would think. What bothered him most was the loss of his closest friend, Thomas. They weren't really friends, they were lovers. Since high school it had all been the same: pretend to date a girl, get into a serious relationship, then come up with some excuse to go out for hours and make love to his boyfriend. He'd never been proud of it and for years he'd wondered why he didn't just come out and say it. Thomas wasn't as comfortable with the idea, though, so Zach had stuck with staying hidden as well. Maybe life would have been different if he'd been openly gay. He knew one thing for certain: if the Preacher knew, they would crucify him and set him ablaze. Instead of doing that, Zack stuck with smoking any Marlboro Reds he could find and sneaking out a bottle of Whiskey whenever he got the chance. It made life's problems much easier to take.

"-And then I was in Moline Illinois and I-" Wally's window suddenly shattered, cutting him off, and before either he or Zack could grab a weapon, Wally's door swung open and he was pulled violently from his seat and drug to the muddy ground.

Zack grabbed for his pistol on the seat as his own door was jarred open. His eyes widened as one of the men who had been forced into the mine grabbed him by the arm and yanked him easily out of the cab. He tumbled to the ground and turned with his hands up in defense.

"No, no, please!" Zack put his hands in the air; defenseless. "Please, I don't have any choice but to do what the Preacher says! We have to, to survive!"

Tyler paid no attention as Zack pleaded. He grabbed the pick-axe off of the ground and stepped up to Zack's frightened little figure cowering in the mud.

"No, no, no!" Zack shrieked as Tyler raised the pick. Zack crawled backward in horror as Tyler swung and the pick slammed into the mud between Zack's legs. Zack looked at the pick, then up at Tyler with wide eyes. Tyler scowled and his teeth clenched as he pulled it out of the mud. "NO!" Tyler brought the pick down hard.

The pick side of the pick axe penetrated Zack's flesh and shattered his pelvic bone as it seated itself inside him. His breathing halted and with his eyes wide and dull he looked into Tyler's as shock overwhelmed his wiry body. His top half fell back and slammed into the mud and as he died, Tyler pulled the pick axe out of his pelvis and brought the pick down again and again; leaving large, gaping holes in his chest and abdomen as the blade spewed blood and pierced bone.

"Tyler… TYLER!" Tyler stopped his brutal attack and looked over his shoulder. Mason was looking at him sternly from the other side of the truck. Tyler could hear the frightened mews of a man coming from somewhere out of his sight. Mason swallowed and looked down at the ground. "It's done. Come help me with this."

Tyler spat on Zack's lifeless body and walked around the back of the pickup. Mason had his foot on Wally's chest. He wasn't fighting back. Tyler walked up and raised the pick axe. Mason grabbed the handle with a scowl and his lip curled in anger.

"No." Mason said sternly. "This isn't the time." Mason looked down at Wally and bent down. The scowl remained. "Where's the church from here, boy?"

"I can't-"

"You can and you will," Mason swallowed and pointed at his legs, "or I'm going to cut your legs off and let you drag your ass home. Do you think I'm fucking with you?"

"Please, please, I can't! Not like this! Please, you can't kill them. Don't, please!"

"Fucking- Mason spat. Turned to Tyler and took the pick axe from him. "Don't give me a fucking excuse to use this you fucking ass-cleaner. I'll cut you into fucking pieces and feed your ass to one of those things! You hear me, hillbilly boy!?"

"N-O!" Wally just began to sob and Mason clenched his teeth.

"All right, fuck this." Mason backed away from Wally and raised the pick above his head. He brought it down and the pick pierced his upper thigh; spewing blood liberally like a geyser as his femoral artery was torn in half. He screamed in agony as the tool was ripped from his leg and Mason dug the heel of his boot into the wound. "Where's the fucking church!?"

"It's three miles east!" Wally screamed as drool fell from his mouth. "Please, don't hurt me anymore! PLEASE!"

"Thanks." Mason stepped over Wally's body and brought his foot down on his neck in a forceful stomp. A wet gurgle came from Wally's mouth as his neck snapped and death overwhelmed him. His eyes stared into Mason's coldly and Mason took a deep breath. He looked at Tyler, then in the cab. "That asshole you killed has my M-39 in the cab. Looks like there's an FN FAL L1A1, .308 battle-rifle too." Mason stepped over Wally's body and reached into the cab as if nothing had happened. He pulled out the rifle and handed it to Tyler. "There are twenty in the magazine." He reached into the cab again and grabbed his M-39 pistol. He checked to make sure it was loaded and cocked the hammer back with a pleased nod.

"I'm going to go let Aaron out." Mason sighed; turning away from Tyler without any hesitation. They were back to being irritable again. Their patience and drive was depleted.

"Fucking pile-" Tyler spat on the ground and looked at the rifle in his hands. He could tell it was well-used and probably old- though he couldn't tell what era it was from. It looked like your standard assault rifle: black with a pistol grip and a removable magazine. He wasn't sure how the bolt system worked- though he supposed he could figure it out if he had to. He pulled the stock against his shoulder and looked down the sights. They were very clear, much like an M-1 Garand. It was heavy, though, and he knew it would slow him down. Yet, it was still better than a pick axe, and far better than nothing at all. He lowered the rifle and rubbed his nose as he looked over the hood of the truck. Mason was opening the door to the mine.

Mason swung open the large steel door and let out a sigh when Aaron grunted and sat up with a painful grimace on his face and his eyes wincing from the light.

"None of our shit is outside and I didn't see any first aid in the truck. We're going to have to go to the church, or I'm not going to be able to do anything about that hole in you." Mason's face and voice were hesitant and sad. If they didn't hurry, Aaron would die from blood loss, or his wounds would get infected and he would die in agonizing pain.

"Well look at the bright side-" Aaron winced and tipped his head, "I just saved a whole bunch of money on my car insurance." Mason coughed and began laughing hesitantly. He shook his head and knelt down as he eyed Aaron's bullet-wound.

"Is it gushing?" Mason leaned forward and winced. He lit his lighter and Aaron clenched his teeth as Mason pulled his shirt up to expose the ragged hole in Aaron's gut. "We need to get you somewhere that I can at least stop the bleeding. I can only do basic stuff… no surgery or anything. And the only practice I had was on pigs." He looked at Aaron with serious eyes. "You'd better pray."

"Nah," Aaron shook his head, "I'll stick with hope… I'm on the rocks with the whole "God" thing at the moment.

"I don't blame you." Mason looked over his shoulder and spotted Tyler looking off into the distance on the other side of the pickup. "Tyler!" Mason barked. "Back the truck over here! We have to get him in the back!" Tyler gave him a "thumbs-up" and Mason turned back to Aaron. "This is going to hurt really bad."

"I can take it." Aaron grunted; trying his best to sit up straight. "I've had enough bad luck to know what agony is." They both looked up as the truck began backing toward them quickly.

"You want me to sing to you like a momma bird?" Mason smirked. "Make you feel better?"

"Please don't." Aaron winced as he let out a slight painful laugh and the pickup halted a few yards from the mine-shaft entrance. Tyler climbed out and slammed the door; raising his eye brows as he walked to the box. There was an old gray tarp covering whatever contents were inside. He grabbed the side of it and yanked it out.

"What do we have here?" Mason looked in the box. "Tools… for the 'dead people cage." There was a wire welder standing up and several pieces of rebar. There were other assorted tools lying loosely amongst random 2x4's and 4x4's and a tool box shoved into the corner.

"No first aid." Tyler said dryly. Mason just shook his head.

"They're God Squatting hillbillies- they probably don't believe in treating wounds." Mason spat on the ground. "Our only bet is their compound. They have to have SOMETHING I can use- even if it's some fucking fishing line and a sewing needle."

"Oh, God that sounds fucking awful." Aaron groaned. The pain was hardly bearable without the thought of Mason stabbing his already tender and gaping wound with a tiny spear.

"Just bear with me boss-man." Mason glanced at Aaron then back at the pickup box. He looked at Tyler and twisted his head pessimistically. "If we go there, Thompson..." Mason reached into he pickup box and grabbed a piece of rebar and a hack-saw. He looked at them both then at the wire-welder. "We're going to have to go in quiet... like Metal Gear Solid style, err, Splinter Cell if you like that better. Open up that tool-box and see if there's anything useful." Tyler walked around to the other side of the pickup and reached in to the tool-box. He opened the top and dug inside for a moment.

"Standard tools... wait." Tyler pulled out a folding-knife and flipped open the blade. "Assisted open- a nice one." He closed the blade as Mason climbed into the pickup box and walked to the wire welder. He knelt down beside it and began feeding wire out of it. He let about two feet of slack feed out before he stopped it. He looked at Tyler.

"You got a wire-clipper in there?"

"Uh," Tyler dug in the tool box for a moment, "Yeah, here." He handed Mason the wire-clipper and Mason clipped the wire off of the welder and hopped out of the pickup box. He set the wire in the box and picked up the hack-saw.

"Come hold this piece of rebar for me so I can cut an end off of it." Mason glanced at Tyler and Tyler shrugged. He grabbed the piece of rebar and Mason began sawing at it aggressively; breaking a hard sweat before the saw ate its way through the steel and a six-inch piece fell to the ground. He did the same thing again so he had two pieces and he picked them up and set them beside eachother in the pickup box.

"You want to slide the tool-box over here?" Mason looked at Tyler and Tyler nodded.

"What the hell are you doing anyway?" Tyler asked as he pushed the tool-box in front of Mason. He got irritated when Mason went along and did things without a hint of his intentions.

"Well-" Mason took a pair of pliers out of the tool box and set it beside the two pieces of rebar. He picked up one of the pieces and grabbed the wire from the wire-welder. He wrapped one end of the wire around the piece of rebar several times, then twisted it tight at the end with the plier. As Tyler watched, Mason did the same thing with the other end of the wire and the other piece of rebar. When he was done, he hand about nine-inches of wire with a handle on either end. "It's a strangulation device..." Mason smirked. "Wrap it around the neck and twist the handles together. The guy will kill himself just trying to get it off."

"That's fucked up." Tyler said flatly. "I like it."

"Let me see." Aaron said from the ground. Mason turned and showed him

and Aaron nodded slowly with a large, pleased smile. "You're just like McGyver, but not a commie."

"Thanks." Mason snickered. He took a deep breath and looked at Tyler. He was staring off into the distance again. He couldn't blame him. In the past few hours, hell had been unleashed on them. It was causing them to lose their heads and spout off at eachother. Mason was coping okay himself by focusing on the task at hand; planning for revenge, but Tyler looked completely broken. His eyes were empty and sunken in.

"Tyler," Mason said softly and Tyler looked at him dully, "try to focus on something else- anything else."

"I can't." Tyler swallowed. He turned around and began walking toward the pen where Carter had been tossed. He had to see it... he couldn't bear to just walk away. It all represented too much now.

As Tyler walked away, Mason opened the driver's side door on the pickup. There was a pair of binoculars hanging from the rear-view. They would come in handy when he was casing the church compound. He looked in the glove box for anything else, but there was just a new testament bible and nothing more.

"Mkay, I need to figure out what the hell we're going to do with you when we're inside... Fuck." Mason looked at Aaron. "You're going to have to sit in the truck when we go inside. We'll leave that rifle with you."

"Nah, you might need that." Aaron shook his head. "I can just stay in the cab."

"No, you have to be armed." Mason said sternly. "If we get killed inside, you have to try to carry on alone and try to get to the green zone. You'll need a gun." He looked at Aaron and nodded slowly. "There's a ninety-nine percent chance we're not going to come out of there alive, Aaron. You know that, right?"

"Yeah." Aaron nodded. "I know."

"Right." Mason swallowed. He looked over to the make-shift corpse-pen and took a deep breath. Tyler was leaning against it, staring at the ground where Carter had been devoured. Mason walked around the pickup and approached solemnly from behind; crossing his arms as he stepped up beside his best friend.

"I feel like a brought everyone here." Mason's voice broke slightly and he looked at Tyler with teary eyes. "I could have said fuck it. I could have said fuck it a thousand times, but I never did. I walked us right into this because every second of the day, all I can think about is being bullet-proof... I fucked us."

"No," Tyler groaned; wiping his own eyes, "you didn't fuck it up. Neither of us did. It wasn't a bad call... it was like Iraq. We went with information we had. Had it been real, it would have been good. We would have saved someone. It wasn't though and we got fucked by assholes." He looked at Mason with fire in his eyes. "Anyone could have said no and we probably would have just kept going, but no one did. Everyone wanted to go. I don't feel responsible, not for this part, but I fucking hate them Mason and I want to kill them. If I die killing them, I don't care. I just want them to fucking die with me standing over them."

"Okay," Mason nodded confidently, "Then let's go kill them... all of them."

Mason went with Tyler back to the Truck and together, they helped Aaron climb painfully into the passenger's seat of the truck.

While Tyler climbed behind the wheel, Mason hopped into the box with the L1A1 in his grasp. He was ready both mentally and physically. He was focused on the kill, but not excited. This wasn't deer-hunting, and he wasn't getting the shakes. He was calm, focused. As the truck started, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to focus on the trigger pull, the environment, the situation. Situational awareness was everything. He had to be aware of every bit of movement, every building, shed, garage, or tunnel. Everything had to be observed and recorded inside his mind. This was his time. He had to take charge.

Tyler drove the pickup at a constant 30miles-per-hour as he tried to keep it quiet. He kept the lights off and by now the sun was dropping; forcing him to dig desperately through the enveloping darkness with naked eyes. It wasn't so bad. He could easily see the road still, but he was more worried about what was off the road, beyond the ditch to his sides. There could be more ambushes in store, or guards walking along, or even hordes of the living-dead. He couldn't be sure and being inside the cab didn't help either. It just made everything that much harder to see. He slowed the pickup to a stop when Mason began to pound on the top of the cab. He stuck his head out the window and Mason hopped out of the box.

"This is close enough. If we follow this road for a while, we're bound to run into it." Mason handed Tyler the strangulation device he had made through the window and Tyler stuffed it in his back pocket before opening his door and climbing out. He and Mason both looked at Aaron as he painfully pulled himself behind the steering-wheel and leaned his head back.

"Light headed?" Mason asked with worry in his voice. Aaron nodded.

"Very. Tired as hell."

"We have to get you some water as fast as fucking possible." Mason looked at Tyler. "Everything is riding on this." He handed Aaron the L1A1. "We can't afford to be carrying something loud with us- might get buck-fever and pop off." He grunted and looked at Aaron again. "Stay frosty, boss-man." Mason nodded and Aaron nodded back.

"Hurry up, would you?"

"You got it." Tyler huffed. "We'll be back in no time."

"Okay, let's go." Mason turned around and took off in a jog. Tyler caught up with him a moment later and kept pace with him easily. He'd oddly always been faster than Mason by a long shot.

"Is he going to make it?" Tyler asked quietly as he stared at his feet moving one by one out in front of him.

"He'll be okay for a while." Mason swallowed hard; his eyes staring straight ahead. "He needs water and food, though, as fast as possible and I need to close that wound at least partly or he'll die before we even get close to the green-zone."

"We're not going to get out of that place alive, are we?" Tyler suddenly asked nervously and Mason looked at him blankly then shook his head.

"Probably not. There's probably plenty of them and you saw as clearly as I did that they were willing to shoot. It doesn't really matter how good we are at this, or if we think we have the edge. Even when you're positive about your plan, well equipped, and well trained, the unexpected always happens in these situations. Then, the plan goes right out the window and you have to improvise. Well, we're already improvising, and we don't have a plan, and we're not even real sure where we're going."

"I know exactly where we're going." Tyler said as-a-matter-of-factly and Mason tipped his head.

"How's that?"

"Well, there probably aren't a whole lot of places with lights on around here." Tyler pointed down the road. There were lights in the distance barely cutting through the dull darkness."

"Well then," Mason swallowed, "I guess that's one less variable to juggle. Let's see if we can't even the odds even more."

They kept their jog at a reasonable place the until they were within three hundred yards of the church compound. They hovered in the sparse trees with Mason yards ahead; directing Tyler with sign language.

The place was like a fortress. It was surrounded by an eight foot high wooden-plank fence that went half way around before it turned into chain-link that was extended to ten feet tall. Inside the walls was a large, white church that looked to be at least a hundren years old, a small shack and several trailer homes along the wall topped off with a large, steel, red and white shop building with sliding doors. There were two large yard lights near the gravel road that lead to the front gate from the church and light was shining from the windows of the small shack that was closest to them.

"Deer-stands for guard towers." Mason whispered to Tyler and pointed to two towers approximately fifty yards from one another that stood barely above the wall. He looked through the binoculars and quietly eyed the towers. He could see one figure in each. They were standing eerily still, staring off into the distance. "I bet that little shack is the security building. There's probably two or three guys in there. Who knows how many people are in those trailers, or the shop." Mason sighed as he continued to search through the binoculars. He scanned the courtyard and paused when he got near the shop. "I can see about five vehicles behind the shop from here." He lowered the binoculars and darted away, catching Tyler off guard. Tyler swore quietly as he followed and knelt again near a tree where Mason was searching with the binoculars again.

"Yeah..." Mason trailed off. "I can see the back of the hummer... or at least _**A **_hummer. I bet the LMV is back there too. These mother-fuckers have probably stolen shit from dozens of people using the same fucking trick they used on us-" Mason cut himself off. Of course. Nearly all the corpses in the mine-shaft were probably people the Preacher had commended to be just forced inside and forgotten. He was purposely adding to the army of undead. "Yeah, let's kill all of them." Mason coughed and spat a loogie on the ground. "Once the darkness falls completely, we move."

"Good." Tyler said coolly. He didn't need to say anything else.

Tyler and Mason waited patiently as the sun finished its trip to the other side of the earth. When the darkness had completely devoured everything, Mason finally rose to his knees and pulled his pistol from his waist-band.

"We'll have to stay away from the light." Mason whispered. "I'll go take care of the watch-tower guys, then I'll come nab you. Okay?"

"Yeah." Tyler said dryly when suddenly the yard-lights turned off.

"Well that's convenient." Mason grunted. "I suppose they figure lights will draw unwanted attention." He let out a sigh and turned off the safety on the Smith and Wesson. "Well that's the plan then." Mason tipped his head. "I'll be right back."


	14. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hands of Death

_"Revenge is a dish best served cold._

Paul Isaacson trembled as the night-wind his bare skin. What a waste, to be out watching the empty-horizon and freezing his middle-aged ass off. He didn't get it. The Preacher said God was there to protect them at every turn, but they needed to be on their toes. Why? Wouldn't God sabotage any plans that some evil force might have to destroy them? He let out a hard-sigh and wrapped his arms around his chest; trying to keep his plaid, wool jacket as snug against his chest as possible. It was colder than Hell for late spring and he couldn't help but wonder how his crops would be doing had this whole mess not started. He smiled weakly and looked at his weathered, right hand. If only he'd known. He'd have spent more time with his parents, his sister, and his wife... his kids. But all of mankind was that way. No one ever thought about that stuff until it was too late.

"Oh, momma!" Paul's eyes lit up with excitement and he reached his hand into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a pack of Lucky-Strikes and his breathing trembled. He'd almost forgotten that he'd stolen them out of that big, black military-vehicle that they'd secured earlier in the evening, now that would have been a crying shame. He pulled one out of the half-smothered box and looked at it with a grin. If the Preacher had any idea he was smoking, he'd be on sewer-duty for weeks. It was evening though, and the Preacher didn't come out at night unless there was a pressing reason. He put the cigarette in his mouth and fumbled with his pack of matches as he clumsily lit one; blocking it from the wind. Puffing it until a cherry was glowing; he took a long drag and sighed it out. What a gift from Heaven.

Paul felt something hit him in the face and his cigarette flew out of his mouth; hitting the floor by his right foot and rolling away. He could feel a warm, wetness on his skin and his vision began to get blurry as he put his hand up to it. With wide eyes, and his left hand on a wound he couldn't understand, he tried to stand up, but his legs wobbled weakly and he fell forward onto the guard-rail; using his last bit of strength to keep himself from falling onto the wooden planks that made up the floor of the tower. As he stared at the ground, he took another impact. This time it was in the left-side of his skull. He didn't feel that one.

* * *

Mason glanced at the body hanging over the guard-tower ledge as he moved swiftly along the wall. He couldn't think of anything negative to say about killing the man. He didn't know him, but what Mason did know was that the man had been on the wrong side of the wall and he'd paid for it with his life. His thumb fiddled with the safety as he continued forward; his eyes not darting around, but scanning with his peripheral vision. He couldn't detect any movement, but he knew another guard-tower was less than thirty-yards away. The reconnaissance they'd done earlier was coming in handy. Had they not decided to take a gander at the place, he would have been moving blindly through the darkness trying to figure out who could get a bead on him and where to go next for the tactical-advantage. He had it all figured out now and he wasn't about to be stopped by a bunch of deer-hunters, or Nancy-boys with rifles that they didn't know how to use.

Mason knelt as the outline of the second guard-tower came into view. He couldn't see anyone through the darkness, but with a little bit of sneaking he knew he could get a drop on whoever was watching before the son-of-a-bitch even knew what hit him. His finger rubbed the edge of the S&W's frame as his eyes continued to stare. He was fighting his adrenaline with all of his might; breathing slow and deep. A few weeks earlier he could never have imagined that he'd soon be shooting at live people, or dead ones at that, and after doing it for a while he could finally see the actuality of his skills. No one could mock him for his hobbies, or interests now and anyone who had, had probably been turned into a finger-snack.

Mason held his breath as he saw a shadow move slightly in the guard tower. His eyes were becoming more and more adjusted to the dark as he remained knelt motionlessly in the shadows of the sparse forest and he was finally nearing the point where even the slightest motion would draw his eyes to the origin. His legs trembled slightly and he slowly reached for his left pocket without taking his eyes from the tower. Quietly, he slid a full magazine out and removed the partial-empty from the grip of the pistol with the same hand; sliding in the full one in its place. He placed the partial-empty back in his pocket and clenched his teeth.

As he began to creep forward, Mason couldn't help but notice how badly he wanted to kill the second guard and everyone else inside the walls after that. He didn't really care if he got himself killed or not. He just wanted the psychos to feel every bit of anguish he had when he'd watched Liz and Aya get executed right before his eyes; not to mention the absolute horror of watching baby Carter get devoured. His heart beat began to speed up and his hands began to shake as the vivid image replayed in his head. Executing two young girls who were fresh out of high school? And an infant? It was inexcusable; as bad as sending a mentally handicapped boy to do a suicide-bombing as had been seen in the Iraq war. It was all in the name of some religion of course; some idiot's view of what a religious book says. Mason closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as the wind hit him, and opened them again; his trembles subsiding. Now it was time for him to give a little love back to God.

Mason snuck forward a few more yards and raised the S&W. He could hardly see anything, but the night-sights were working; a soft glow resonating from two red and one green dot. He centered them on the shadow of the man in the tower and his lip trembled with rage. He double tapped the trigger and he heard a surprised, but very short grunt as the bullets impacted their target. Mason heard the man's body hit the floor of the tower and he quickly moved forward; the chain-link fenced part of the wall his destination.

Mason seemed to glide over the grass as he sprinted in a half-crouch. Finally, the wooden posts turned into a school-yard-like fence and Mason stuck the S&W into his waist-band. After a quick glance around, he hoisted himself onto it and began a careful climb upward. He needed to be quick and he knew it. The possibility of sentries making their rounds along the perimeter was a real threat and if he got caught out in the open, he would be killed for sure.

As he reached for the top bar, Mason's heart jumped and his hair rose as he felt his legs get grabbed. Without hesitation, he kicked back with all of his might before even seeing his attacker. As he felt his boots impact the chest of who, or whatever it was, he fell to the ground and rolled away; drawing the S&W as he sat up.

"What the fuck, man?!" Tyler hissed. He'd taken a very hard smash to the chest from Mason's boots and it wasn't feeling too great.

"You were supposed to fucking stay back until I came back for you." Mason whispered just as angrily; his eyes enraged. "I could have shot you."

"I knew you weren't fucking coming back." Tyler's eyes stared accusingly. "I want payback too! And you know damn fucking well that Aaron would be here too if he didn't have a hole in him." He was right. They'd all felt the pain of the loss, and no matter what angle Mason looked at it from, he knew that doing all of the dirty-work himself would be greedy and selfish. He needed backup anyway.

"Fuck it." Mason climbed to his feet; putting his gun back in his pants. "We have to fucking move." He put his hands on the fence again and looked over his shoulder. "You ready?"

They both quickly climbed the fence and landed unencumbered on the grassy ground inside the compound perimeter. Mason looked at Tyler and pointed at a small building located along the fence about fifty yards from the church. Light was shining through the windows; cutting through the darkness like a knife. Tyler nodded and Mason darted forward. It was quiet right now and they had to get things done before that calm was interrupted.

"Hey, Joe!" A voice called through the darkness and Mason froze; Tyler doing the same a few yards behind. It was coming from behind them; beyond the second guard-tower.

"Fuck." Mason whispered inaudibly; looking at Tyler. Whoever it was, was probably calling to one of the dead men in the guard towers. If they didn't silence him soon, he would sound the alarm and that would be the end. Mason made a choking sign with his hands and Tyler nodded. He had the make-shift strangulation-device Mason had strung together in his back pocket. Mason stayed low and crept up to him.

"Give it to me," Mason grumbled, "I'll hook him up, and you stab him. Got it?" Tyler nodded and handed Mason the strangulation device. Mason looked at it and clenched his teeth. "I'm going in fast and hard."

Before Tyler could respond, Mason took off in a dead sprint toward the voice that was still calling out from the darkness. He pulled himself to his feet and took off close behind; trying to figure out exactly where the voice was coming from. As he penetrated the darkness, the voice got closer and closer. He pulled out folding-knife from his back pocket. This was going to be very messy.

* * *

Mason spotted the man long before the man spotted him. He lowered his shoulder as he charged forward and he slammed into the small-statured man's chest; both of them tumbling to the ground. Before the man could regain his composure, Mason rolled over him and wrapped the wire around the man's neck, then rolling back again with all his weight; pulling the small man's body back violently. He kicked back; bucking desperately as he tried to scream, but the wire was so tight that no sound could escape his lips.

As Mason gained complete control, he twisted the steel-handles of the strangulation-device together until they were entangled and secure. He let go and the man fell away; still kicking and clawing at his throat as blood ran down his neck. As Mason watched him coldly, Tyler jumped out of the darkness on top of him and raised the knife.

As the man's eyes widened, Tyler slammed the blade of the knife into his face. Again and again Tyler raised it and smashed it down; puncturing his nasal-cavity with the first impact, then piercing his upper lip and breaking his front teeth, then finally puncturing his left eye-socket and piercing a hole in his brain. He stopped moving and Tyler let his arms drop down at his sides. He climbed to his feet and looked at Mason. What a cold day in hell this was to feel joy in savage-murder. He couldn't lie to himself though. He loved the feeling of revenge and that in itself was enough to make him vomit.

"You win for style points." Mason said flatly; looking at the little man's mangled face, then back at the shack with its lights on. He really, really needed a cigarette. It would have to wait though. He didn't want to end up like the guy in the first tower.

"I've got other things on my mind." Tyler sighed; wiping the screw-driver on his jeans. A chill ran up his spine as he looked at the church sixty-yards away; its crumbling-white paint glowing through the darkness. It looked like the "Nightmare on Elm Street" house with towers.

"Well let's deal with the task at hand then." Mason patted him on the shoulder as he walked past him. This whole thing was just getting started and they were running out of time.

* * *

"You know if we didn't have a deck of cards I think I would have lost my mind by now." Clive parker looked at his friend, David Leland, from across the dark, oak-table and chuckled as he dealt out seven cards. He'd always liked gambling and he took comfort in knowing he could still do it even after apocalypse. As long as he had someone to play against that was.

"Well I was never much for cards," David sighed; spinning his golden wedding ring on his finger as he stared at it, "but it beats the hell out of sitting inside reading the bible with the Grinch and his gang. I swear if he didn't have his shit together I would have turned my back on him on day one. I can't say I have much of a plan otherwise though. I'd probably be out robbing people or some damn thing. Desperation is a bitch; you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, yeah I know." Clive snickered; bumping the toes of his shoes together playfully under the table as he looked at his cards. "You got a six?"

"No, but I got to take a piss like a race-horse." David pushed himself up from the table and gave Clive the "evil eye" as Clive snickered. "You ain't much for cheating are you Clive?" He raised an eye brow and Clive put his hands up in defense; shaking his head as he tried to conceal a hearty-grin.

"Hey, that takes all the fun out of the game man. I could just as well play against myself." He pushed his lower lip out with his tongue as David put his hand on his cards.

"Yeah, right." David said; grabbing his cards and turning to the tiny bathroom behind him. "Now, I know you're going to be checking out what's in the deck when I'm gone. You just go fuck yourself." He stepped into the dank bathroom and winked as he closed the door.

As Clive shook his head and looked back at the cards on the table, he didn't feel the set of eyes staring at him through the window behind him. Tyler was watching him coldly; his hand still clutching the screw-driver.

"Go." Tyler said softly, and Mason rapped on the door playfully, causing Clive to glance at it with wide eyes, and then turn back to the deck of cards.

"Come on in!" Clive shouted as he tried desperately to hide the cards so no one would be the wiser and turn him in to The Preacher for unreasonable sins. He pushed them all together and began stuffing them into his pockets as the door opened behind him.

"Just playing "Go-Fish." Clive Chuckled nervously; still trying to get the last few cards put away. He didn't turn back to see Mason walking up to him with the S&W aimed; eyeing the Glock on his hip.

"Hey, it's not gambling." Clive stuttered. "It's just-"

Mason shot him in the back of the head and blood shot out the front of Clive's face as the bullet exited. His top-half slammed onto the table just as the toilet flushed in the bathroom. Mason jutted the pistol forward and emptied the rest of the magazine into the bathroom door; splintering the cheap-wood with seven holes. He charged forward, knocking the table out of the way as Tyler stepped in behind him, and kicked the door in; looking down at David's bloodied torso.

"You... fuck." David said weakly as he stared into Mason's lifeless eyes. He tried to go for the Colt Python .357 Magnum on his right hip, but Mason was too fast for him. He bent over and forcefully grabbed David by the right arm and neck; pulling him half-way to his feet, then shoved his head forward into the toilet.

David fought desperately as his head was dunked into the toilet water. He pushed against the toilet-bowl with all of his might, but he was bleeding out and his body couldn't produce the energy to fight back against a young, healthy man who outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. His eyes widened as his lungs fought for air and he began to suck in water. His body bucked one more time, then went limp. Mason let him fall to the floor and he wiped his hands on his jeans; turning to Tyler passively.

"Grab his Glock." Mason motioned toward Clive's body that was now lying on the floor in a heap and as Tyler turned the body over, Mason crossed his arms and looked over the furnishings in the cheap, sheet-metal building. The corner of his mouth raised into a partial smile as his eyes locked onto a metal locker that was sitting to the left of a cream-colored refrigerator. He walked quickly up to it and pulled open the steel doors as Tyler checked the chamber of the Glock to make sure it was loaded.

"Jackpot." Mason grunted as Tyler looked up at him. He took a step back and Tyler's eye brows rose. There was a belt-fed machine gun in the locker, along with an MP-5, Mason's M16A4 from the LMV, several different pistols, and a Mossberg 550 twelve-gauge shotgun. Mason grabbed his M16A4 and pointed at the closet next to the back-door. "You want to see if any of our other stuff is in there please?" Tyler quickly walked over to it and Mason heard him grunt happily.

"Want your ammo?" Tyler looked over his shoulder and Mason smiled with a nod.

"Yes, please fine-sir." Tyler reached into the closet and turned around holding their Tactical Vests. He raised his eye brows twice and walked up to Mason.

"I kind of wish my bandoleer and my Benelli were in here." Tyler looked in the locker again, then back at the closet. He didn't like suddenly not having his semi-automatic twelve-gauge Benelli shotgun as his primary weapon. It felt odd to think he might have to rely on some-

"There's going to be too much shooting and not enough time to reload." Mason said flatly; making sure his vest was still packed full of 30-round stanag magazines. He nodded, satisfied, and looked into Tyler's eyes. "You won't be able to rely on a shotgun this time. You'll have to make-due with something that has more bang for the buck." He shoved the MP-5 into Tyler's chest. "I know for damn sure that you can figure out how this works." He turned and grabbed the Mossberg shotgun and looked at Tyler hesitantly. "Don't fucking use this unless you have to. You have to keep shooting as fast as fucking possible and be accurate to some fucking extent. Are you reading me man?"

"I got it." Tyler snapped; pulling the Shotgun out of Mason's hands. "You'll have to show me how this MP-5 works though." He looked at the little, black submachine gun and raised an eye brow.

"Now we're talking." Mason grinned and slapped Tyler on the shoulder.

Mason gave Tyler a quick run-down on the MP-5's operating system and they both quickly loaded up; rechecking to make sure they had all the ammunition available and that it was all placed securely in their vests. Mason put the S&W in the locker and grabbed a Glock 21; replacing the magazines in his vest with magazines that matched the gun. He looked at Tyler and nodded.

"This is where the plan ends." Mason's tone was serious and nervous. His eyes glanced toward the back door of the shack and he set his hand on the belt-fed machine gun. He picked it up and opened the receiver-cover; letting out a grunt when he saw it was loaded and ready to go. "M60E3..." Mason looked at Tyler; adjusting the M16A4 he'd slung over his chest. He put the stock against his shoulder and looked down the sights.

"It's a .308 right?" Tyler eyed the belt of ammunition hanging from the gun and Mason nodded; his eyes going back to the locker.

"Yeah, but it's only got a 100-round belt on it." Mason pointed at a second belt inside the locker. "Do me a favor and connect that belt to this one."

Tyler stepped past Mason and grabbed the belt from the bottom of the locker. He turned to the gun, fiddling with the links, and hooked the second belt onto the first. As he stepped away he shrugged. The belt was so long that it was touching the floor.

"It should feed fine. It's got like fifty-percent more pull than the old M60's and they weren't so bad." Mason scooped up the excess part of the belt so it wasn't touching the ground and he raised his eyes brows. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

"I'm guessing everyone is in the church?" Tyler said; peeking out the window by the back door and Mason stepped up next to him. They really had no idea where the rest of the compound's population was located. They could be in the trailer-houses on the north side of the property or they could all be in the church. They'd have to play it by ear.

"There's a little bit of light coming through them fancy windows on the church." Mason pointed at the painted glass windows that lined the side of the building. They were glowing slightly; evidence that the enemy was in the middle of mass. "Maybe they're worshiping."

"Which door should we go in?" Tyler shifted uncomfortably. "Fuck, I don't like this. Front or back? Every church I've ever been to has a door in the back where the Priest, or Preacher, err, whatever can go through to make it seem like he's been in the building all week. Should we go in that way?"

"This might be perfect." Mason ignored Tyler's question; rubbing his goatee as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "If they're all in there- sitting in the pews," He nodded coolly and squeezed the grip of the M60, "I have 200 rounds of 7.62-ball here. We can fucking wipe them out."

"Yeah, that sounds like a big fucking **if**." Tyler looked at the MP-5 again and shook his head. He could hardly remember how to load the thing already. He didn't want to go into the unknown. At least out on the road they could see people coming. Then again, that point of view hadn't really aided them when they'd been ambushed out on that gravel-road earlier.

"'When thou goest out to battle against thine enemies and seest... horses, chariots, and people more than thou, be not afraid of them: for the Lord thy God is with thee.'" Mason smirked. "It's from the Bible, I think."

"Yeah, well I'm not so sure God is really excited about what we're planning to do." Tyler grimaced. "Blowing holes in peoples' torsos isn't exactly a form of worship."

"Yeah, well we're already here." Mason put his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. "You go sit outside the front door. I'll go in and see if I can talk this thing out." He grinned.

"I don't like this." Tyler groaned; turning the MP-5's safety off.

"I'm not sure I like much of anything anymore." Mason grumbled. "If we're going to go down, then let's go down with a bang."

"Nice choice of words." Tyler shook his head.

"Thanks." Mason said cynically. "I thought you might like that."

Mason swung the door open and walked out into the court-yard calmly. He looked this way and that as he walked across the brown, spring-grass and Tyler disappeared in the opposite direction; moving fast and low.

"Extremist fuck-tards." Mason spat on the ground and he approached the church and his eyes scanned the side of the ancient-looking building. It looked absolutely dead, but there was still light coming through the windows. And as the wind died down momentarily, he heard a voice coming through the windows. He couldn't tell what it was saying, but he could tell it was defiant and excited. It was no doubt The Preacher telling his followers how they would rule the world soon. Mason's eyes locked onto the shadow of a door and he looked around anxiously. Hopefully he wouldn't wind up stepping into the middle of a group of armed-psychos. Wouldn't that be comical? Now he just had to hope the door would open, or his plan for silent entry would be fucked.

"Yahtzee." Mason whispered as the doorknob turned and he pushed the door in. It creaked as it swung open, but the voice of The Preacher poured out into the courtyard; covering any sound he'd made.

Mason stepped inside and paused. He was in an abused-looking stair-well; not exactly what he'd expected. The stairs looks like they were getting ready to collapse and cob-webs like the edges of the ceiling all the way to the top. He sighed and closed the door quietly behind himself; turning his sights on the top of the stairs. It looked like there was a candle lighting the landing and The Preacher's voice was piercing the stairwell with ease. He was close, and Mason wouldn't miss.

Slowly, Mason made his way up the wooden-stairs. They creaked under his feet and his heart began to pump extra hard as he got closer and closer to his destination. What would he do? Shoot The Preacher right away then go for the people in the pews? Or take out The Preacher quietly then go for the people? It was hit and miss. Mason swallowed hard as he came to the top of the stairs and he put his back against the wall. The man was so close that Mason could almost feel his body heat. He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. This was it. This was pay-back time for everything. Not just Aya, Liz, and the baby, but every person these maniacs had murdered with some twisted sort of greater-good in mind. Mason closed his eyes. He hoped God could forgive him for all of his sins; especially this one.

* * *

As the Preacher spoke, his disciples listened closely; intent on hearing the word of their God so they could bring him into their daily life. They'd been in Mass for almost two hours now, but no one was complaining. God had given them food, shelter, a leader, and salvation. They were the new world and they knew that without The Preacher's word, they would not succeed against the evil outside their walls. They stared up at him waving his arms wildly with charisma as the words poured from his lips. He was dedicated, and surely chosen by The Lord himself.

"-For without his word, one cannot dare to go forward into the future! Without his word, one cannot dare to ask for salvation!" The Preacher, wide eyed and perspiring, took a deep breath and big step back; looking up at the ceiling and stretching his arms out. "Lord, our God, please have mercy on-" Everyone gasped as The Preacher stopped; suddenly disappearing from their view. They all stared quietly, unsure what he was up to, when suddenly his body was thrown from the balcony and landed hard on the wooden floor before them.

Before his disciples could react, Mason stepped up to the edge of the balcony and pulled up the M60's barrel. He could see all their faces staring up at him with shocked and fearful eyes. He gritted his teeth as a bead of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose. They were defenseless; disarmed by the man who swore God would protect their elitist way of life. He squeezed the trigger and the muzzle flashes lit up the entire room as 7.62mm ball exited the gun at 600 rounds per minute. He swept the barrel back and forth; letting out a deep roar as bullets penetrated bodies; knocking them to the floor and over pews. Blood spewed and bones shattered; no match for the power of the .30 caliber medium machine gun. He didn't let up. He couldn't. He had to see them killed; mangled and destroyed.

As bodies fell, the people screamed in horror; flocking toward the door as Mason simply held the gun at his hip; aiming at the walkway between the pews, and holding the trigger. Without thinking, the church patrons were running right into the stream of fire in their attempt to escape death. Yet, even with Mason's controlled fire, some of them made it to the front doors where they believed safety awaited them. To their surprise, when the doors opened, Tyler opened fire desperately with the MP-5; fighting to control the muzzle-rise. He managed to put a burst into the right side of the first three escapees, and then he just held the trigger as a group of six sprinted out. He cut down two of them before the MP-5 went dry and he dropped it to the ground; pulling the shotgun off his back. He put the butt stock to his shoulder and looked down the ghost-ring sights. The people were stupid; just running in a terrified, straight line. He pulled the trigger and the first went down with a shredded back full of 12-gauge OO-Buck. The second and third went down with two, hardly aimed shots that cut down the legs of one and viciously tore through the abdomen of the second. He pumped the shotgun and Mason stepped through the door and raised the M-16A4.

"Don't waste the ammo, I got her." Mason said casually, aiming through the red-dot mounted on top of his rifle. He centered the tiny dot on the young lady's back and a smirk formed at the corner of his lip. The M16's muzzle-flash lit up the whole courtyard and the woman's body tumbled forward; impacting the ground hard. Mason sighed passively and tipped his head slightly; lowering the rifle. He felt a flood of pleasure pass through his body and his nostrils flared as a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. It wasn't right. His gut knew that and his hardening and calloused conscious knew it too: Killing people then smiling about it wasn't something any man ought to do naturally; regardless of the situation.

"Nice shot." Tyler stood up; glancing at Mason's strange facial expression. He was staring at the body like he was curious; studying it. He couldn't say exactly what Mason was feeling, but he could guess. They'd both seen more death in the past six hours than any man really should. It was emotional torture that was difficult to measure and express in words. Mason had become hard and cold, just as Tyler had, but he was trying to figure it out and understand it. They both needed to understand it, or it would become normal and acceptable. If that happened they would no longer be men, but monsters just like the ones they had been killing.

"I'm going to go talk to that preacher." Mason coughed; turning back to the church doors.

"Huh?" Tyler looked at him. "He's still alive?" It was surprising that through all the gunfire, Mason would have taken the time to acquire a prisoner. He sensed a catch.

"Eh, I tossed him off the balcony." Mason shrugged; looking over his shoulder as he stepped through the doorway. "I hope he's not that fragile. I don't think he hit anything on the way down." If the preacher was dead, Mason would be wholly disappointed. He had more interest in giving that man a slow death than any of the other ass-fucks that had been praising the lord alongside him. They'd been the main course, but he was much more interested in the dessert.

"Don't be surprised," Tyler raised his eye brows, "he's not exactly young." He shouldered the stock of the shotgun and followed Mason through the door; eyeing the picture of Jesus that was hanging on the right-hand wall as he stepped in.

"I don't get real surprised anymore." Mason said through a long sigh; looking up at the balcony he'd tossed the preacher from; then, down at his hardly moving body that was lying at the front of the room, beyond the gaggle of corpses littering the pews and walkway.

Tyler and Mason both pulled up their guns as the creak of an old door echoed through the old building. A wooden door at the end of the entry-hall that Mason hadn't cared to notice was wide-open. A man was standing in it scanning the bloodied bodies with desperation and endless sorrow. He turned to Mason and Tyler and let out a gurgled gasp.

"They weren't even armed!" The nameless man shouted. The glow from the countless candles that lit the room glistened off the large bald spot on the top of his head. Mason drew his Glock and aimed with one hand. The man took a deliberate step forward with his arms out at his sides and his eyes wide. "They weren't even armed!"

Mason shot him six times; the bullets ripping through the man's bluish dress shirt and knocking him back against the wall. Blood gushed from the bullet holes as he slid to the floor and died silently; staring at his penny-loafers. Mason looked at him emotionlessly as he lowered the pistol.

"Looks like 'Moses' will have to wait." Tyler said; glancing at the preacher then at the doorway the nameless man had come from.

"Yeah-ha, no shit." Mason chuckled as he replaced the magazine in his Glock with a fresh one. "How many kittens do you think could be down there? Five, ten, twenty?" He rubbed his right nostril with his thumb and stared at the darkness that was beyond the doorway. He wanted to get this over-with. The preacher was waiting.

"I don't care." Tyler grumbled. "I want to get the hell out of here."

"All right," Mason nodded, "To the basement, Robin."

"Holy church-goers, Batman!" Tyler snapped back quickly; causing Mason to burst out in laughter when suddenly muzzle-blasts rang out from the court yard and Tyler dove to the ground. As he rolled over, bullet's impacted the wall to his left; showering him with wood-shards and old paint flakes. Mason fired back reflexively as he dropped to his knees. He emptied the Glock rapidly, lighting up the room with every blast, and slid it into its holster. He raised the barrel of the M-16 and his thumb switched the selector switch to 3-shot burst.

While Mason squeezed off rapid bursts as fast as his finger could move, Tyler slammed another magazine into the MP-5 and let the bolt-mechanism close. He stuck the barrel out the doorway blindly and held the trigger as he waved it back and forth. The magazine went dry quickly and he looked at Mason nervously as he replaced it.

"Here!" Mason shouted over the fire and he slid the M-16 across the floor to Tyler's feet. "Just keep shooting! I'm going to go back up on the balcony and grab the M-60!" Tyler nodded and turned back to the doorway. He rose to his knees, leaning sideways to get a look outside, and began firing wildly again. He couldn't tell where the bad guys were. All he could do was hear the muzzle-blasts and guess. He clenched his teeth and reloaded again. He really wished shotguns had longer ranges.

When Tyler started firing again, Mason turned around and stepped toward the balcony. He didn't make it very far. His eyes bulged and his body stiffened as a pair of oak-like arms suddenly wrapped around his neck mid-step and pulled him into the dark doorway that led to the basement.

Mason dug his nails desperately into the perpetrator's arm-flesh as he was drug backwards down the stairs. He kicked violently and tried to shout, but the arms were squeezing his throat so tightly that he couldn't even breathe. He could feel his face turning blue. He reached his hands up and grabbed at the face of the giant, mystery killer, but the man pulled his head back; out of Mason's reach.

As he was drug down to the last step, Mason could feel himself getting light headed. The world was blurring around him like a strange fuzziness overwhelming every sense he had. He knew what was happening. The blood was being cut off from his brain and if he didn't escape from the vice-like grasp his neck was in, he would either die, or suffer from brain-trauma for the rest of his life. His eyes desperately searched as he was drug down onto the dirt floor and he locked onto the wall that led to the stairwell. This was it: Do, or die.

Mason raised his legs up and pushed off from the wall with all of his strength. He felt the man behind him lose his balance and topple backwards; losing his grip and releasing Mason from his stranglehold. Immediately, Mason rolled away and drew his Glock. He paused as he saw the man. He was enormous; at least 6' 3" tall and 250 pounds. Mason clenched his teeth and his nostrils flared and he pulled the trigger. "Click"

"Fuck!" Mason threw the Glock at the giant's face and the ugly, big nosed man grinned as he rose from the ground. Still out of breath, Mason turned and started crawling quickly toward the stairs. His hand reached out for the first step and he began to yell out Tyler's name when the man grabbed him by the foot and yanked him violently backwards. Mason's face hit the floor as the man tossed him to the side and blood ran liberally from his nose. Mason tried to stand up, but as he began to rise, the man kicked him violently in the stomach and knocked him back down. He groaned as he tried to crawl forward again, but the man grabbed him by the foot again and began to drag him across the floor, away from the stairs.

"Tyler...Tyler..." Mason grumbled inaudibly as his face was dragged through the dirt. His hands weakly searched his surroundings for anything he could possibly grab a hold of. He could tell he was getting dragged deeper into the darkness; further from Tyler and any chance of escape. His adrenaline began to flow even more wildly and his arms became more energetic and desperate as they reached into the darkness for any tool he could use to injure or kill the monster that was kidnapping him. As suddenly as he'd been pulled into the darkness, Mason felt something rub against his forearm. He reflexively grabbed it and yanked; hoping for a piece of steel, or rebar. He twisted himself onto his back with the long, skinny object in his grasp. He made eye contact with the man, and then looked at his weapon and his heart sank. It was a flimsy piece of particle board.

The man laughed as Mason's facial expression went from angry aggression, to total disappointment. Before he could turn away, though, Mason whipped it across the man's head; breaking about a foot off of it and causing him to grunt and growl like an animal. He let go of Mason's foot and grabbed at the particle board and Mason's eyes locked onto the man's knee. He cocked his leg back and thrust it forward; his heel connecting with the man's right leg directly above his knee cap. The man roared in pain as he dropped down to the floor with his hands in the dirt. Mason cocked his leg back again and kicked the man in the face; knocking him onto his back. Not wasting a second, Mason turned around and began moving quickly toward the stairs on his hands and knees. He knew the man was already getting up. He had to be. It was only a matter of seconds before he'd grab Mason again and he'd be in the same situation as before. Then Mason saw it. His Glock was lying in the dirt near the base of the stairs. He dove forward, landing roughly, and grabbed the pistol firmly; rolling onto his back as he dropped out the empty magazine, slid in a fresh one, and racked the slide. He jutted the pistol out just as the man stepped over him and froze. Mason stared into his eyes coldly; the sights centered on the beastly man's forehead.

"Tell me something." Mason said calmly. "Have your brains ever seen the light of day?" He squeezed the trigger and the entirety of the basement lit up in unison with the top of the man's skull exploding and the contents of his cranium spewing into the air and onto the low ceiling. His body fell backwards and Mason dropped his head to the dirt as the man's body impacted the floor.

"I've had enough of this Sylvester Stallone bullshit." Mason said through a deep heave and he sat up; looking toward the staircase. Tyler was still shooting.

Mason climbed to his feet and stumbled to the wall; using it to balance himself. He felt like his entire body was one big bruise; shooting a throbbing pain through his body with every heart-beat. He put his foot on the first step and winced. Something shuffled behind him and he pivoted with the Glock aimed.

Mason's heart beat increased and his skin began to burn as anger began to boil at the sight in front of him. Standing before him holding what looked like a kitchen knife was the dark-haired boy who had shot Liz and tossed Carter to the dead. His black, unwashed hair glistened in the light. Mason's hand squeezed tighter around the grip of his pistol. He wanted little more than to paint the walls with the little bastard's brains. He'd fed a fucking baby to mindless corpses. How could a living soul be so blank-minded that they could do that with no hesitation and no guilt? Mason swallowed. He couldn't shoot him. He couldn't bring himself to let the kid go in such a quick and simple way.

"Move up to the wall or I'll make you look like him." Mason said shakily; motioning to the large, dead man on the floor. He wished desperately that the boy would make a move, but without much hesitation he dropped the knife and backed up to the wall.

"Where's your friend?" Mason scanned the darkness, but there was little light; only that of a utility light to the left of the stairs. The boy didn't say anything, so Mason jutted the pistol toward him and his face distorted into a snarl. "You tell him to come the fuck out here, or you're done. You hear me?" Mason was so enraged that he was shaking. He kept imagining how the boy would look with his skull cracked open and his brains spilling out. It would be better than any famous painting- just pure, uninhibited beauty.

"Mason," Tyler's voice came from the hall upstairs, "I'm running out of ammo here! Where the fuck are you?!" Mason swallowed as he heard pistol-rounds start to fire off. It wouldn't be long before Tyler was completely dry.

"All right, that's fine." Mason shrugged impatiently and stepped toward the boy.

"No!" A voice came from the darkness. As Mason watched, the brown-haired boy showed himself. He was terrified; a wet spot showing obviously in his pants. He was holding a screw-driver defensively out in front of his chest.

"You want me to feed that to you?" Mason spat on the floor and the boy dropped the screw driver to the dirt floor. "Good." Mason said through his clenched teeth. "Up the fucking stairs. Both of you move!"

* * *

Tyler looked up, confused as Mason walked out of the basement corridor with the two boys in front of him. Tyler felt his throat swell up as he realized who the two boys were and he swung his pistol toward them.

"Hold up." Mason stopped Tyler blankly; positioning himself so he could see into the courtyard. He guessed that the shooters were in, or around the trailer houses that were about one hundred yards away along the wall. They probably had plenty of ammo and were just waiting for Tyler and Mason to run out. Then they'd close in and destroy. "I'm going to go out and make a deal." Mason took the dark-haired boy and put his left arm around his neck. He put the barrel of the Glock up to the side of the boy's head and put his lips down by his ear. "Now you be a good little boy so I don't have to go outside wearing your brains as a t-shirt. M-kay?"

Mason forced the boy part-way out the door and stopped; making sure anyone in the courtyard could see him. "Now you listen to me you limp-dick mother-fuckers!" Mason yelled; his voice carrying clearly through the crisp spring air. "Get your asses out here, or this little bastard's guts are going to be your new fucking doormat!" He stared through the night air coldly. He couldn't see anything; just un-lit buildings and the shadows from the trees dancing around the frosted grass as the wind rocked them steadily back and forth. He sighed and put his lips to the boy's ear again. "You know," Mason whispered, "I'm almost glad they're assholes." His finger ran along the edge of the trigger. "I've been waiting all night to do this."

"Hold it!" The voice of an old man carried across the yard. "Stop it! Please, stop it! We surrender! Just let the boy go!"

Mason peaked out the door and wrinkled his nose. A flood of relief and sadistic joy flooded his senses as he saw several human shadows out in front of the three beat-up trailer houses. It looked like they had ditched their guns. He pulled the dark-haired boy back inside the church and shoved him into Tyler; Tyler wrapping an arm around the boy's neck and sticking his pistol up to the boy's head.

"Keep an eye on the puppies." Mason said passively; eyeing each of the boys tensely. He picked up the M-16A4 off the floor and put a fresh magazine in it. He grunted happily as he pressed the bolt release and a round was loaded in the chamber. He leaned out the doorway with the M16 aimed and passed the red dot over the group of people as he searched them.

"Which one of you was yelling!?" Mason barked. He watched calmly as a shadowy figure stepped forward. "Bye, bye bad guy." Mason shot him in the head and a woman screamed as the old man's skull erupted and his body hit the dirt. "Oh," Mason grinned and looked at Tyler. "You should've seen that shot."

Tyler just shook his head; squeezing the black-haired boy tighter against his chest. He wanted desperately to cut the kid into pieces and feed him to the nearest bunch of wandering corpses. He could do nothing to remove the thought from his mind. He wanted blood.

"Okay," Mason sighed and stood up, "If they shoot me, then kill one of the little fuckers." Mason smiled at the black haired boy and winked. "Yeah, that's you, cutie-pie." He looked at the brown haired boy and nodded. "Yep, you too." Mason looked back at Tyler. "Can you contain yourself, boss?"

"I got it." Tyler said grimly. "Trust me." He dug the barrel of the pistol hard into the boy's neck and the young man grunted in pain.

"All right, then I'm going out." Mason huffed up his chest. "Stay frosty"

Mason left the front doors of the church excitedly. He sang the lyrics to "Peaceful, easy feeling" to himself quietly as he walked casually across the frosty grass of the courtyard with his eyes on the horrified enemy that was staring at him. He could hardly stand the fact that he was taking them as prisoners and he knew that he'd use any excuse to kill them. He needed to keep cool.

"And I got a peaceful, easy feeling-" Mason sang softly as he got to within ten yards of the people. There were three men and two women left. Their hands were reaching toward the sky and they were shaking uncontrollably. Mason smiled at them all as his eyes locked onto those of a young woman who had tears running down her pretty face.

"Now why on earth are you crying, sweetheart?" Mason asked sarcastically. "Do I frighten you?" He smiled sickly and tipped his head thoughtfully as her eyes went to the man lying on the ground with his brains oozing out of his head.

"That was her father." A middle-aged man said sternly as Mason slung his M16 over his chest and pulled out his Glock. He looked at the man and nodded.

"Oh, that was her dad, huh? Mason huffed with even more impartial sarcasm. "Was it really?" Mason shot the man in the face and he fell backwards; beckoning more screams from the women. Mason looked at the man's body and sighed. "Now I didn't fucking ask you, did I?" He looked at the remaining men and women and shrugged.

"Okay," Mason rubbed his nose and motioned toward the church with his pistol, "We're going to play a sort of follow-the-leader." He looked at one of the two men. He looked to be in his early thirties, but his blond hair-line was receding at a faster-than-average pace. "You're first ass-fuck. Start walking toward the church with your hands on your head and your eyes staring at your fucking feet. Go." The man started walking as directed and Mason looked at the other three people. "Well, fucking follow him!"

* * *

Tyler watched from the Church as Mason walked his prisoners across the court-yard. He was profoundly surprised that Mason hadn't executed them all within the first few seconds of approaching them. He sighed and wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his pistol-hand. He was also surprised that Mason hadn't just shot their two, young hostages without a second thought. It was lucky he hadn't, since they'd have had nothing to threaten the bad guys across the courtyard with and both him and Mason probably would have ended up getting shot, or going through a lot more trouble to bring the night to a successful end. He shoved the black haired boy against the wall as Mason's first prisoner walked through the door and the rest followed.

"Gag 'em and bag 'em, I guess." Mason shrugged as he walked in behind his 4 trophies. Tyler just raised his eye brows at him.

"How the hell are we supposed to do that?" Tyler asked; not quite impressed with the next move. There wasn't any duct tape or rope lying around. Mason motioned to Tyler's Glock with his eyes.

"I thought you might want to add a few to your count," Mason whispered, "since I've been a little greedy." He stepped back and grabbed the two boys by their shirts and Tyler took a deep breath.

"Take a good look," Tyler said with a boisterous voice and pointed at the cross at the front of the room, "At the symbol you used to justify the murder of innocent people; people who did nothing to harm, or threaten your existence." The Prisoner's all looked at Tyler sadly and his eyes widened. "Look at it, you fucks! Look at it!" Liz's face flashed before his eyes as their faces turned to the cross. He raised his pistol.

Mason nodded slowly as the rapid gunshots began to echo through the church. The muzzle of the Glock flashed and the bloody mess that consumed the entire room was exposed in bright, picture-like glimpses seventeen times. As shell casings hit the floor, so did more bodies. And more blood caked the pews, the walls, and the ceiling of the once holy hall. As the gun-smoke cleared, the church was silent, save for the gurgling sobs of two young boys.

Tyler lowered his pistol, his arms quivering, as Mason held the two boys firmly against the wall. He turned to them and his head tipped slightly. The brown-haired boy had shot Aya with half a smirk on his face. He was a little fuck-up; not so tough without a gun. His eyes went to the dark-haired boy. He was the one who'd shot Liz and had so carelessly thrown little Carter to the dead to be devoured alive. He dropped the empty magazine out of his Glock and replaced it with his last full one. He swallowed and tipped his head back as he inhaled a slow, deep breath.

Maybe this was wrong. Tyler thought to himself; trying to justify every feeling of contempt he had for both the boys. He wanted to kill them in cold blood, but what remained of his human-side was begging him to stop. He'd already murdered people inside a church. No, he'd KILLED people inside a church. He had not murdered them. They were predators hunting the innocent and taking advantage of the weak for their own good. How could it be justifiable to let them live and allow the next group of compassionate people fall victim to their evil plans of domination? He squeezed his eyes shut; trying to block out the boys' sobs. But how could he kill a little kid? Didn't that make him like them?

"What are we doing, Thompson?" Mason looked at Tyler sternly. They'd been in the church long enough. They still had things to do and Aaron was waiting for them out in the open; vulnerable to anything with cruel intentions and possibly bleeding out.

"Let him go." Tyler said flatly and motioned to the dark-haired boy.

"What!?" Mason gasped. "Are you fucking dense?"

"Let-fucking-go of him." Tyler stared at the boy with empty eyes; the Glock down at his side.

"Fuck." Mason spat and let the boy go. He stepped away and held the brown-haired boy even tighter. He wasn't going to be so easy on his boy. He couldn't let himself.

"Do you have any idea what you did?" Tyler asked with a shaky voice. He stared into the boy's eyes and a tear ran down his cheek. "You killed the only people probably left in the world that I could care about." He rubbed his eye. "You killed them." He raised the Glock and shot the boy in the face. He slammed into the wall and fell to the floor. His hands began to twitch as Tyler walked up to his body; ignoring the other boy's agonizing screams. "You fuck, you fuck!" Tyler screamed. He emptied the rest of the Glock magazine into the already-dead boy's face. The boy's head shook and bounced with every bullet-impact; the structure of his face breaking down as it was decimated. Blood spattered from the enormous wound and bone-fragments flew liberally until the Glock's slide locked back in the rear position; the magazine empty.

Tyler stared at what was left of the boy's head. There was no face. It looked like a pumpkin that had been hit by a baseball bat with the contents spewed everywhere. He was no longer a boy; Just a body to add to the list of bodies that Tyler had seen in a week. There was no going back to the way things were before. Tyler could see that now. He was tainted and stained by blood and hatred that few men in any previous life could possibly have experienced. He looked at Mason. He was staring at Tyler with dark, serious eyes.

"There's nothing left inside me." Tyler's voice cracked as tears began to flow. "I have nothing." Mason swallowed hard as he watched his best friend silently and he nodded.

"I got that feeling, too." Mason took a deep breath and his eyes went to the boy he was holding. "But this ain't over yet." He took the boy by the arm. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Mason grunted. "Don't go anywhere without me."

Mason walked the boy across the courtyard, past the trailer-houses. His eyes were on the shop. "You're a bunch of fucked-up little bastards. You know that?" Mason's teeth clenched as the boy whimpered. "You think its fun to shoot girls in the face, feed babies to monsters, and probably fuck each other? Hm, well I bet I can one-up you. Do you think so?" Mason motioned to the yellow shop-building with its large garage doors. "I bet I can find something fun in there to play with."

The boy cried even harder as they reached the sliding, double doors of the shop. Mason slid one open with his right hand and stepped inside. The hum of the establishment's generator roared through the building as a motion-activated light flicked on and Mason looked around with his eye brows raised.

"Hm," Mason took a deep breath as he looked over the assorted tools and machinery placed neatly throughout the room. "I was thinking I'd strap you to something and cut you into pieces with a skill saw..." Mason trailed off. He'd become almost unaware of the boy's sobs now. It was just background noise that accompanied the gunshots and explosions of the new, natural world. "I don't see anything I can strap you down with, though." His eyes scanned some more and he stopped. "Oh, no," Mason shook his head, "Oh, geez." Mason was staring at a large tractor a few feet away from them. It looked like it had been in use recently. The enormous tires were caked in mud. He wasn't worried about the tires, though. He was staring in wonder at what was attached to the back of the tractor.

"That's a "power take-off." Do you know what a "power take off" does?" Mason walked the boy up to it and slapped his hand on it playfully. "It spins around and around really, really fast. It basically starts up the tractor. You hear about it all the time: people or animals getting sucked into them. It's really just a fucking death-trap." Mason sighed and shook his head. "They're old-school, though. The new tractors don't have them." Mason's eyes left the P.T.O. and he began searching the countless things hanging on the walls around them.

"Oh, there we go." Mason pointed at a thick chain that was hanging amongst some ropes and random tubing. "That's what I was looking for." Mason walked the boy over to the wall and he pulled the chain down; holding it with one hand. The boy pulled back as Mason bent over and grasped the other end and he shook his head.

"Don't worry. I'm not just going to throw you into a P.T.O." Mason shrugged. "That would just be wrong. I'm just going to tie you up while I look around. M-kay?" Mason threw the chain and it slid across the floor next to a pickup that was jacked-up with the front wheels missing. "Now I need a super-thick bolt." Mason walked the boy over to a long counter that lined the wall next to the back door. There were plenty of containers filled with bolts and nuts, but he needed the thickest one he could find. He nodded as he saw several of them with the nuts already screwed on to their ends. He grabbed four and turned back to where he'd thrown the chain. "Back this way fuck-face." Mason walked the boy over to the pickup and forced him to sit down. He wrapped the chain around the boy's arm, just past the elbow, and put the bolt between the two tightest links. He used his fingers to tighten them as tight as he could and then he attached the other end of the chain to the bumper and slapped his hands together as he stood up. He brushed his knees off casually and looked off to the wall again.

"I just need one more chain." Mason said thoughtfully. He scanned the wall some more and nodded firmly as he saw one. "I think that's about the same thickness." Mason walked up to it and pulled it off the wall and walked back over to the boy. Mason dropped it onto the floor in front of him and rechecked the tightness of the bolts. They were still tight.

"Okay, step two." Mason turned around and walked over to the P.T.O. He found the start-switch and flipped it. The roar of the P.T.O. starting blocked out any other sound in the building. Mason winced as he looked at the bar spinning and then turned back to the kid. He walked over to him and knelt down beside him.

"I think we'll walk back to the church after you've learned your lesson! Does that sound good?!" Mason slapped the boy on the shoulder and winked at him and began bolting the second chain around him just under his armpits. The boy began to scream violently and pull at the chain, then on the bolts. Mason walked the lose end of the chain over to the P.T.O. then looked at the kid seriously.

"I know you probably just had some fucked up guy taking care of you, and you have an impressionable mind..." Mason shook his head as blood curdling screams escaped the boy's mouth. "But I have to do this for YOUR sins." Mason tossed the loose end of the chain into the P.T.O. and the boy was yanked violently from his sitting-position. His elbow shattered where the chain was bolted to him and the skin over his lower arm was peeled away as it was forced through the tight, steel loop. In the blink of an eye, his body was sucked into the machine and blood splattered all over the concrete floor as the boy's entire body was wrapped around the steel bar of the P.T.O.

Mason watched silently as the boy spun for a few seconds, then flipped the P.T.O. off. The speed plummeted quickly and as it came to a stop, what was left of the boy's body peeled off of the bar and smacked wetly onto the blood spattered floor. Mason stared at it silently. It didn't really look like a body. It looked like a ravaged piece of meat. All the clothing had been torn off and his bone structure had been shattered and crushed beneath the skin.

Mason smiled for a split second, and then swallowed as his face morphed into a grimace. He let out a passive grunt, turned around, and walked toward the sliding doors.

* * *

Tyler looked up from his seat on the floor as Mason walked in through the Church's double doors. He was covered in blood and looked dazed, or drunk. Mason put his hand on the wall and leaned; closing his eyes tightly. He let out an agonizing roar and slammed his fist against the wall repeatedly. Then, his scream stopped and he leaned on his knees. He gagged hard and puked the limited contents of his stomach onto the wooden floor; staring at it with dull eyes. He stumbled sideways and landed on his butt next to Tyler. He leaned his head back against the wall and took a deep breath.

"I don't..." Mason shook his head. "I don't know if we should've done this." He wiped his mouth with his forearm and pushed his palms into his eyes. "Oh my God I just did something fucked up! Fuck!" He swallowed the knot in his throat and looked at Tyler.

"I know..." Tyler said softly. "I can't stop thinking about it." The boy laid motionless right across from Tyler's feet. The blood had begun to cake on what was left of his facial structure. "But... what if they had come across another baby?" Tyler shrugged one shoulder. "What do you think they would do? They would throw him into a fucking pen full of dead cannibals and let them eat him!" He let the back of his head smack against the wall and he ran his hand through his sweaty head of hair. "That's all I can think to justify this."

"I keep thinking I'll have Aya to comfort me." Mason smirked cynically and shook his head. "The first girl in five years that I trust gets executed right before my eyes. What are the chances, huh?"

"Yeah," Tyler swallowed. "All because of that fucking Preacher-" His eyes widened and he looked at Mason.

"Oh, shit!" Mason jumped to his feet and looked across the big, open room. There was no body lying on the floor in front of all the pews. The Preacher's body was gone. "Fuck me!" Mason pulled his Glock out of his holster and turned around as Tyler darted up next to him.

"He had to have gone out the back." Tyler said as he walked down the aisle; his eyes darting around frantically as he scanned the bodies on the floor. "I was up front the whole time." He shook his head as he looked at the dead faces. Where the hell had the bastard crawled off to?

Mason's head snapped to attention as an engine roared to life in the courtyard. He looked at Tyler with wide eyes. "Here!" He threw Tyler his M16 and drew his Glock as they both sprinted toward the doors.

"There's only one gate out of here!" Mason yelled through his huffs as they hit the courtyard and again they were overwhelmed by the cool night air. The beams from a set of head-lights were moving from behind the shop where the collection of victims' cars had been parked. They were turning toward the front gate.

"Move it!" Mason roared desperately. They had to make it fifty yards to cut the Preacher off. Otherwise, they were screwed. They'd never see the old man again.

As the grass of the courtyard passed swiftly under his feet, Tyler saw the old Ford Bronco whip around the side of the shop; spinning out as it took the sharp corner toward the gates. They only had to make it a few more yards: Fifteen… ten… five. He was going to get away.

"Shoot!" Mason screamed and they both opened fire from ten yards away as the Bronco flew past them. Several rounds from the M-16 pierced the passenger-side door and Mason shattered the passenger-side window with the Glock as their desperate barrage met its target. Yet, the Bronco kept on moving and it roared toward the wooden gate of the outer wall.

"Fuck!" Tyler spat; swinging the M16 spasmodically and curling his lip as he scowled. But as he watched, the direction of the Bronco seemed to veer slightly to the left and before Tyler and Mason's eyes, the Bronco slammed directly into the steel-beam that the front gate was connected to. The Bronco's hood rippled and the glass from all the windows shattered as steel met steel and the old Ford seemed to crush itself under its own weight; coming to a dead, silent stop in the cold night air.

"Well, that did the trick." Mason swallowed; looking at Tyler with raised eye brows. He walked briskly up to the truck with the Glock raised and paused a few feet behind the passenger door. He stared at the darkness of the cab; trying desperately to hear the slightest noise. There was nothing. He could only hear the heaves of his own chest and the sigh of the breeze rolling across the courtyard. He looked back at Tyler and nodded. Tyler nodded back. There was only one way to be sure the man was dead.

Mason aimed the Glock and parried slowly. It was no joke that the Preacher could have a gun. Every other person in the damn compound had been armed with a gun, and they'd been impressively persistent with them for Church-hungry civilians. Mason's heart pounded inside his chest. Why the hell was he scared right now? He gritted his teeth and took another side-step. Now that he thought about it, he knew. It was because right now he actually had the chance to think about it. Every other time he got shot at, he didn't have time to sit down and think. Everything was about reaction and that's what people usually did: train to react and react to succeed. He flared his nostrils. One more step.

Mason let out a deep sigh when he saw the Preacher. The man was dead. His face was covered in blood and there were two holes in his right-side just below the rib-cage where a couple of Tyler's bullets had found their mark. He was leaning motionlessly against the door; staring through the window peacefully.

"He's gone." Mason said and turned around; wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm.

"Good." Tyler nodded. He was glad the man hadn't still been alive. If he had, both he and Mason would have felt obliged to murder another human-being for the sake of revenge. They'd both had enough of that for a night and for a lifetime.

"Let' go get Aaron." Mason said confidently. He looked off toward the shop. "The L.M.V. is in the car-pool."

"I'll drive." Tyler grunted passively and started walking toward the shop with slow, tired steps. It was about time this was over and it was about time they got some rest. Rest wouldn't come so easy, though. After all, Aaron had a bullet wound and Mason was the only one who could stitch it up. Hopefully, there were some medical supplies somewhere on the compound or at least some hard alcohol to ease Aaron's pain.

"If he's dead, I'll never forgive myself." Mason said softly. Tyler nodded. He felt the same way. They could only hope their efforts hadn't been in vain. It would be a sick punishment from God, knowing that they'd let their friend die while they sought out vengeance.

"One step at a time." Tyler said mindfully. He let the damaging thought leave his mind and he shifted his attention to the comforting breeze hitting his skin. "Let's just do this one step at a time."

_Wow, it took me like a year to do that. You know why? I stopped drinking haha. Now I have to write sober and its hard to get motivated. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and the work I put into it. Its about 50 pages in 12 point print on microsoft word, so its quite a bit. Now that all of that is out of the way, I'm going to apply some needed changes and a little closure- at least what may seem like closure for one or two of them. I'm looking forward to it and I hope you can bear with me while I sloooooowly write everything. _


	15. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Winding Down

"The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of tyrants and patriots."- Thomas Jefferson

Aaron stared down the gravel road as the wind wailed against the pickup window. His posse was still missing in action and it had been over an hour since their departure. He'd heard the shooting; a consistent pattering of machine gun fire piercing the ever-present darkness of baron spring. It had faded and less persistent small-arms fire had followed, though, that had died as well. Now it was a silent, sweeping gray darkness that had seemed to have penetrated the small cab of his little brown pickup truck.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." Aaron sighed and he leaned his head back against the rear window. He couldn't believe how weak and tired he felt. He didn't know how much blood he'd lost, but he was under the impression that however much it was, it wasn't healthy and if he didn't get a little attention soon, he'd either fall into a very unwelcome eternal sleep, or become so weak that he couldn't defend himself and he'd end up having his guts devoured, or his face bitten off. He shook his head and and gaped his eyes open as far as possible. He wanted to sleep more than anything. Too bad his body didn't realize that taking a nap probably meant bye bye black bird.

Aaron jumped violently as a figure slammed into his window. He grabbed at the L1A1 battle rifle that was propped against the seat as he saw the predator staring at him through the window. It was a woman. She had the most beautiful hair that seemed to be completely unaffected by her not-so-alive state. She pushed her face against the glass and the blood caked on her mouth smeared a dark brown streak across the window like some fucked up weirdo smearing feces on a mirror. Aaron groaned in disgust, but he didn't aim the rifle. He just stared at her. She was so surreal to look at. It was hard to believe that something so cosmetically un-threatening could be so entirely dangerous. He knew that if that window broke she'd be on him like a jungle-cat. Her energy would be ferocious and her strength would seem like that of a steroid-ridden gym-rat. He stared at her for another moment and he barked in surprise when her head lurched to the side and her brain goo erupted all over the window. He looked out the front window. The LMV was rolling up with its lights off and Mason was hanging out the passenger window with an M16A4 assault rifle aimed.

"Don't get out of the truck." Mason yelled over the LMV's engine as he hopped out of the vehicle and walked up to the pickup. He opened the door and nodded at Aaron. "It's all done. Slide over. I don't want you moving too much."

Aaron nodded and moved over slowly and Mason climbed in with him; turning the ignition and roaring the engine to life. He shifted into gear and hit the accelerator; passing Tyler before he even had the chance to turn the LMV around. Aaron looked at Mason uncomfortably and took a deep breath. He wanted to know what had happened. In all honesty, Aaron hadn't expected to see either of them again. He also hadn't expected to live through the night. Maybe things were looking up.

"What happened?" Aaron asked curiously with a over pouring sense of caution. Mason glanced at him and shrugged one shoulder.

"Huh? Oh, there was an M60 in a shed outside. It made things easy." Mason didn't want to talk about it. He knew he had done wrong, but plenty of it had been justified. There was no way he could have lived with himself knowing that every single one of those psychos were still out there doing their deeds to the unsuspecting. He'd have a hard time living with himself knowing he'd executed most of them while they were unarmed too, but he'd do it. He'd had to make a choice and it was eating him alive inside. As if his vengeance hadn't been painful enough, his justification was eating him alive, too. Aya's brains were as far out of her head as the last corpse he'd executed. There was no place his mind could go for comfort and it was forcing a cold sweat out of every orifice.

"Ok." Aaron nodded. He couldn't sense Mason's discomfort. Maybe now he could close his eyes and take a rest. Mason was there to resuscitate him if the worst happened and who knew? Maybe he was ok.

"You close your fucking eyes and I'll beat the side of your skull in." Mason glanced at Aaron coldly and Aaron nodded hesitantly.

"Ok, ok." Aaron sat up as straight as possible and the pain shot through his entire body like a bed of nails being shoved all the way to his core. His eyes bugged and he clenched his teeth as a painful cry escaped his lungs.

"Just hold on," Mason glanced at him and pressed harder on the accelerator, "We'll be there in a second." He touched the break when the church compound's walls came into view and he took a hard left at the gavel road that lead through the gate. He stopped completely outside the church doors and Aaron looked silently over the bodies in the courtyard as Mason came around the truck to his door and swung it open.

"Come on, let's go." Mason grabbed Aaron's arm and Aaron gritted his teeth as he climbed out of the cab and onto the ground. His heaved and his eyes watered with each step and his vision began flashing white as the pain tore through him.

"'I'm going to get you inside and down the stairs." Mason grunted as he heaved Aaron's weight across the frosted grass. He looked over his shoulder as Tyler drove up to the church with the LMV and jumped out. He ran past them and opened the church doors before coming back and shouldering Aaron's other arm.

"Oh God, I'm going to die." Aaron coughed he could feel shock finally setting in.

"Shut up!" Mason barked. He looked at Aaron with a scowl. "If you die, I'm kicking your ass!"

"Just keep your fucking eyes open!" Tyler strained as they got Aaron through the front doors and Aaron's jaw fell open as he saw the large number of bodies decorating the floors throughout the church hall and isles.

"Keep talking." Mason grunted as they approached the stairs. "Tell me something important."

"This fucking hurts!" Aaron screamed. "I don't want to fucking talk you asshole!"

"Ok, you asked for it!" Mason swallowed as they began their descent down the stairs. He began to sing through his panting breaths. "_"Empty sapces fill me up with holes. Distant faces with no place left to go. Without you within me, I can't find no rest. Where I'm going is anybody's guess. _

_ I tried to go on like I never knew you. I'm awake but my world is half asleep. I pray for this heart to be unbroken-"_

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up." Tyler said, unimpressed and unamused. He shook his head with embarrassment as Mason continued.

-"_But without you all I'm going to be is... Incomplete!_"

"Is that the Backstreet Boys?" Aaron asked curiously as they reached the dirt floor at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah," Mason panted, "Incomplete."

"You have a beautiful singing voice."

"Where the fuck are we going?" Tyler broke the humor-bubble and Mason pointed off ahead.

"I don't know- we just somewhere safe. It's secure down here. I just want him somewhere that can patch him up without worrying that some fucking asshole is sneaking up behind me, all right?"

"Just put me here." Aaron said weakly. "I need to sit down a minute. Just let me sit down a minute."

"Fuck." Tyler grunted. Aaron was running out of life-juice fast. He helped Mason set him down on the floor with his back against the wall and Mason turned to Tyler.

"Go find some water... some- I don't know, just anything! And run out to the guard-shack! See if there are any medical supplies out there! Look everywhere!"

Tyler nodded and turned around. He disappeared up the stairs and Mason turned to the darkness that overwhelmed most of the room, save for what the utility light hanging from the ceiling was exposing. He grabbed the light and walked into the darkness. His eyes slowly adjusted and scanned with every step. It seemed the entire basement was under construction. Parts of the walls were braced and some of it boarded up with attractive looking wood-paneling. There was a steel-desk with a lamp and antique-looking wooden boxes sitting on top of it in the far left corner of the wide-open rectangular room. To the left of the desk was a six-foot wide hallway. Mason darted to the desk and looked in the boxes. He let out a sigh. There was gauze and large gauze bandages at the top one of the boxes. He dug a little more and his heart-beat increased. There were several bottles of Isopropyl alcohol and Hydrogen peroxide and on the very bottom, a white first-aid kit. He yanked out the first aid kit and opened it. Most of it was rubbish for minor injuries: band-aids, poison ivy cream, alcohol swabs and the like. His eyes lit up when he saw a spool of plastic thread and a thick, wide needle. He grabbed a bottle of alcohol and the thread and turned to Aaron. He was staring into the dark weakly.

"Keep your fucking eyes opened, I got this!" Mason shouted. He ran to Aaron's side and kneeled down to him; setting the utility light on the ground as he popped the cap off of the alcohol. "This is going to hurt really bad, man." Mason said nervously. "I'm sorry, man." Mason ripped open Aaron's shirt and poured a liberal stream onto his blood-caked wound. He bellowed in agony as the alcohol burned his exposed nerve-endings. He only kept his eyes open for a moment before he passed out and his head fell back.

"All right, all right." Mason chirped. It had been over two years since his 2-day combat first aid training course. He could most of it, though it was cloudy at best. He wiped the wound with a clean part of Aaron shirt and looked closely at the hole. It was beginning to bleed again. "I hope you don't have aids, man." Mason mumbled. He took the needle and the thread and swore as he fumbled to un-wind the end of the plastic string. His teeth chattered and his legs shook as he fought to feed the tip of the thread through the tiny eye of the needle and let out a gasp when it finally went through. He pulled a liberal amount through and knotted it twice, then bit the extra amount hanging from the knot off. He looked at the wound and took a deep breath. He hesitated. He wouldn't be able to force the needle through Aaron's skin. He'd need a plier, a needle nose would be the best, though, anything would do.

Mason grabbed the utility light and rose to his feet again. He turned back and forth; shining the light every-which-way. The basement was under construction. There HAD to be a tool-box somewhere. "The pickup." Mason said quickly. He sprinted up the stairs and through the door; screaming in surprise when he plowed into a lone corpse and they tumbled to the ground together. It grabbed at his arm and he screamed with rage as he pulled away and drew the M-39 pistol from his pants and stuck the suppressor into the corpse's eye socket and shoved its head backwards. He squeezed the trigger and the back of its head shattered in unison with the muffled pop of the muzzle-blast. It fell backwards and Mason jumped up. He ran out the front door and looked around tensely when he saw at least six more corpses wandering around the courtyard. He swore under his breath and ran to the truck. He looked in the box and swung open the top of the tool-box. He found a set of standard pliers and spun around like a top and ran in the doors. He slammed them shut and turned the tiny lock before going into the stair-well and closing that door behind him too.

"You awake?" Mason shouted as he approached Aaron and knelt down beside him again. "You better not fucking die after all of this shit." Mason growled as he grabbed the tiny needle with the plier and leaned forward. He winced as he heard several gunshots, but continued. He jabbed the needle into Aaron's skin on the right side near the hole and pushed it all the way through. He repeated on the other side and then came back near where he'd begun. Back and forth, back and forth, very slowly but persistently he jabbed and pulled; forcing the wound shut as he inched forward. He wiped his forehead and looked over his shoulder as he heard energetic knocks on the front door of the church.

"Go around, go around." Mason chanted. He didn't want to leave Tyler in the dark with the corpses, but he didn't have a choice. He needed to focus on Aaron's battle-wounds. He still had to do his back-side. He heard Tyler yell and swear, and then go silent. "Yep, go around back." Mason muttered. He grabbed Aaron by the shoulders and pulled him forward, then tipped him on his right side and rolled him over. There seemed to be more blood coming out of the exit wound than there had been coming out of the entry wound. He soaked a part of Aaron's shirt with alcohol and wiped the wound clean; trying not to gag from the smell of the fresh blood. When the dried blood was gone, he took the needle and thread and re-threaded the needle just like before; swearing as he tried to find the eye hole and let out a sigh when it went through. He double knotted it and poured more alcohol on it to make sure it was clean before leaning in and preparing for part two.

"What the fuck, man?" Tyler scowled from the top of the stairs. He slammed the door shut behind him and ran down into the basement; pausing when he saw that Mason was doing his handy-work. "I got some stuff!" Tyler said excitedly. "Is it working?"

"Yeah, I got it." Mason swallowed and pulled the needle through again. "What did you find?"

"Uh," Tyler raised the equipment he'd found up in the air and glanced at it. "There's some Army stuff here that I found in one of the trailers- and there was an ambulance in the motor-pool with all of the equipment in it,"

"So they murdered an ambulance crew then?" Mason hmphed and shook his head. There was really nothing to say about it. He just needed to focus on the last few stitches. "There's some of that clear medical tape in that first aid kit on the desk to our right. I'm going to need that."

"Okay." Tyler walked over to the desk and grabbed the tape. He stepped over by Mason's side as he made the last stitch and tied a tight knot to keep it closed.

Mason turned to Tyler and grabbed the tape from him hand and turned back to Aaron's wounds. He taped over the stitches until they were completely covered, then rolled him over and did his front side. He slapped his hands together then looked at them. They were covered in Aaron's blood.

"I'm much happier when it's bad-guy blood on my hands. This good-guy blood makes me feel sick."

"I don't want anyone's blood on me." Tyler said in almost a whisper.

"That's no joke." Mason agreed. He looked at the pile of stuff Tyler had brought in and motioned to it with his head. "What did you come up with, now? I was concentrating too hard."

Tyler opened a bag with a red-cross on it and pulled out a bunch of tubing. "There's some I.V. fluid that was in a cooler in that trailer too. I brought two of them"

"Well, I remember how to put an I.V. in." Mason raised his eye brows as he got to his feet and wiped his hands on his jeans. He'd put I.V.'s into so many pigs that it had almost become second-nature. "I can make a hook for the pouches if I have a wire coat-hanger. I'd like to lay down a blanket or something for him to be on, though. I don't want him in the dirt where he can get every little knick dirty and infected. That'll be the next thing." Mason sighed and looked toward the hall he hadn't bothered to check out. He grabbed the utility light off the floor and walked up to it with is eyes darting back and forth. As he stepped into it, it exposed a finished imitation-wood floor and fine paneling on the walls. There were two doors on the right side that lead deeper into the unknown.

"I guess I'm going first." Mason grunted and walked forward. He came to the first door and turned the knob; swinging it inward and stepping back. He scowled immediately at the sight before him.

"Fucking aye." Tyler said from over Mason's shoulder.

It looked like a medical room. There were cupboards and counters with medical tools and tags on them. There was even a steel operating table that looked like it belonged in a veterinarian's office. There was a body on it, chopped to pieces. The mouth of the head was still moving. Beyond the operating table was a pair of large-dog cages. There was a corpse in each one pulling and pushing weakly on the chain-link doors.

"The must have been experimenting." Mason said with a shake of his head. He raised the M-39 and shot the decapitated head; knocking it off of the table and onto the paneled floor. It's blood spewed as it smacked the ground and rolled over on its side. He aimed at the caged-corpse on the right and shot it through its eye and spewed its brains out against the wall behind it, then aimed at the one on the left. It snarled at him as he lined up the sights and Mason hesitated. He lowered the gun and it seemed to calm down for a second, then it let out a raging growl and began slamming on the cage-door violently.

"That's fucked up." Tyler said nervously. "It's like he knows what's going to happen."

"Well he had two examples to watch." Mason grunted. "A monkey would know my pistol is the shit." He aimed again and shot the corpse right below its nose. It teetered backwards and slammed to the floor; it's head smacking the wood paneling with a muffled thud.

Tyler and Mason moved to the next door and shook their heads as they stepped into the final, tiny room. It was an office. To the immediate left there was an antique-looking cupboard with glass doors. It was full of bottles of bourbon whiskey and Dry Gin. Against the back wall there was a wooden desk with a chair on one side and two on the other. There was a retro bronze-colored lamp bent over a bible and a notebook with notes scribbled across its entirety. Each wall was covered with pictures and certificates and bible verses. Tyler shook his head as rage overwhelmed him.

"Let's trash this fucker." Tyler swallowed hard. It was the Preacher's office and there were plenty of breakable items spread through the tiny area.

"Focus on the task at hand." Mason said dryly. He walked to a wooden portable closet that was in the corner and opened the door. There were several shirts hanging on wooden hangers and a leather jacket on a wire one at the bottom there were a few blankets folded up. Mason pulled the leather jacket off of the hook and threw it to the floor while Tyler dug around the desk behind him.

"Looks like they started this whole thing a long time before the apocalypse started." Tyler walked up to the wall and looked a a picture collage that was hanging from a nail. He studied it; looking at all the faces to see if he recognized any as his defenseless victims. None of them caught his eye.

"Why do you say that?" Mason asked as he bent the hanger into a hook and looked at the pictures.

"Look," Tyler pointed. There was a picture of the preacher shaking the hand of a an older looking man by what looked like the beginning of the walls around the facility. It was dated 2006. There were pictures of the beginning of the basement construction and the placement of the trailer homes as well. Each picture was at least four years old.

"I guess he really wanted an apocalypse then, huh?" Mason rubbed his nose. "Same mind set as that Fred Phelps fellow. Just an ass-fuck that wanted everyone to die if they didn't agree with him."

"Yeah." Tyler nodded. What else was there to add? The man was dead. Fred Phelps was likely in the same condition.

"All right, grab one of those blankets from the closet and let's get him onto it." Mason pointed at the closet and Tyler nodded. He grabbed a blanket and they moved back out into the main room and knelt down beside their unconscious comrade.

"Ok, I'll turn him over." Mason grabbed Aaron by his shoulder and tipped him onto his left side. Tyler set the blanket under him as neatly as possible and Mason rolled him over onto his back. Mason pointed at the desk on the corner and wrinkled his eye brows. "Grab me that chair."

Tyler grabbed the chair and set it by Aaron's unconscious body and Mason twisted the ends of the coat hanger around the wooden back-rest and twisted them together. Tyler handed Mason an I.V. and he hung it on the hook of the coat-hanger. A crash of breaking glass sounded up stairs and Tyler's eyes locked onto the stairwell.

"Go deal with it. I can handle this." Mason said without looking up from the medical bag that held the I.V. tubes.

"I'm out of ammo." Tyler said blankly. "The Glock is dry."

"Here-" Mason handed him the M-39 and Tyler nodded. He walked toward the stairs and and huffed up his chest. One problem to the next. HE climbed the stairs quickly and swung the door open hard. He stuck his head out and looked both ways. There was a figure shuffling near a broken window inside the mass area. It looked at him and let out a tired moan. Tyler scowled and raised the gun as he walked forward toward the end of the entrance hall. As he approached the mass-area, a corpse stepped into his path and he yelped as he jumped backwards. The corpse stretched its arms out toward him and charged with surprising speed; causing Tyler to miss and his eyes to widen as it grabbed onto him. He roared with rage as he tumbled to the floor with it and he dropped the gun to his side.

"Ah, I fucking hate you!" Tyler yelled as the corpse clawed at his face. Behind him, he could hear persistent pounds at the front doors and the corpse from near the window was approaching quickly with Tyler in its sights.

"Mason! Mason!" Tyler screamed. His adrenaline raged through is body and he punched the corpse pinning him down in the side of the head with all of his might. It didn't even hesitate. Its head swayed to the side and it came back in, trying to bite.

Mason appeared from the basement doorway with an expression of sadistic rage painted on his face. He ran up to Tyler's side and thrust kicked the corpse in the side of the head. It tumble to Tyler's left and in a flash, he was up off of the floor. As Mason stepped over the corpse and slammed his foot down on its neck, Tyler picked up the M-39 and suddenly, the front doors broke open.

"Fuck!" Mason grunted in disgust. He looked at Tyler and pointed to the back of the church. "There's no more guns in here!" He backed toward the basement doorway. "You have to get out to the guard shack! Go out the back!" Mason stepped back through the door and slammed it shut.

Tyler swallowed and turned away from the front door. As he turned around, the other corpse that had come in through the window lurched at him. He dodged it to the right and took off down the center of the isle; his eyes focused on the stairs that lead to the upper balcony. He tripped on a body just before he reached the stairwell doorway and he fell flat on his face; the gun sliding across the floor under a pew.

"Ah, fuck!" Tyler yelled as he looked around the floor desperately. There wasn't enough light from the candles to see anything. He glanced up at the gaggle of approaching corpses and spat. No time to keep looking. He climbed to his feet and darted up the stairs to the balcony. He ran through the door on the opposite side and descended down the second stair-case. He put his hand on the door-handle and took a deep breath. He was only unarmed and outnumbered. He'd done that before. He swung the door open and paused. There were three corpses between him and the guard-shack- he could easily out maneuver them. He sprinted forward and winded around them to the guard-shack doors. He ran through the doorway and the hair stood on the back of his neck. Two corpses were on the floor eating on Clive's body. Tyler closed the door quietly behind himself and moved slowly to the gun locker to his left. With his eyes locked on the corpses, he felt inside the locker with his left hand. He felt his pinky rub against some cold steel and he grabbed it blindly. He looked at what he'd grabbed and took a shaky breath. It was some sort of revolver. He aimed and pulled back the hammer. _Click._

One of the corpses looked up at him and moaned. Tyler squeezed the trigger and his heart stopped. It clicked again. It was empty. He spun around and grabbed an automatic pistol from the bottom of the locker and racked the slide. When the slide didn't lock back, he knew it was loaded. He turned back to the corpse that was now standing up and centered the white dot of the front site on its face. He squeezed the trigger and with a loud boom, its brains exited its skull and it fell to the ground in a motionless heap. He switched targets as the second corpse stood up and he squeezed again. The bullet entered its cheek and blood shot out the back of its head, but it didn't go down. It hesitated a moment, then took a step forward. Tyler squeezed again and the bullet punctured the base of its nose and erupted more brain matter out the back of its head. It fell forward as more pounds began sounding on the door.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Tyler chanted. He turned back to the locker and grabbed another automatic pistol. He wasn't sure how many corpses were inside the walls, but he knew he wasn't the best with a pistol. He needed whatever he could get his hands on. He took a deep breath. Mason must have left his M16 in the pickup if he hadn't had it outside. That was his next goal. He moved toward the back door and swung it open. A corpse stepped around the corner to his right and he stepped up to it as he pulled the trigger. It dropped like a rock and he took off in a dead-sprint again; eyeing the front of the church. The corpses from inside were now coming at and soon they'd be between him and the truck. He forced himself to pick up speed and sweat poured down his face as his lungs screamed and his legs burned. He had a pistol in each hand and his eyes locked on the pickup truck straight ahead. He flew past the church just as the first few of the corpses approached the truck and Tyler hopped into the front seat. He started the ignition and shifted into "reverse" as he looked over his shoulder and accelerated. He backed toward the front gate that was sitting opened and slammed the tail end of the pickup into it. It swung shut violently and he shifted into drive with his eyes locked onto the grouped together crowd of corpses wandering toward him. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and the truck took of toward them.

"Let's see how you like this." Tyler said through his teeth and the pickup impacted. The corpses bounced off of the front bumper and rolled over the hood as the weight of the 3/4 ton truck met the corpses head-on. Their blackish blood spewed across the window and their body-weight dented-in the hood as they were mowed down in a large heap. A second later, he was past them and he swung the truck up alongside the church and hopped out; grabbing the L1A1 before taking off. He checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded as he walked confidently in through the front doors. There were a few corpses still inside. He shouldered the rifle and aimed the peep-sights. **BOOM!** The head of the first exploded in a brilliantly bloody mess. The .308 caliber round did its job far better than the .223. He popped to his next target as it turned to him with an empty glare. He blew its face apart and it crumbled to the floor. He aimed at the last one and shot it in the side of the forehead. It fell backwards violently and when it hit the wood floor its brain blood spewed a long stream behind it.

Tyler looked over his work and nodded then turned to the basement doorway. He slammed on it hard a few times, then opened it. "It's all good!" He barked and turned back to the church's front doors. He marched outside and around the right side of the building. There were still some shadowy figures wandering around. He aimed the gun and sighed in disappointment when he couldn't make out the front sights. He'd just have to wait until they got closer.

"Come on you dumb-fucks, come and get 'em!" Tyler grabbed on his groin as Mason stepped up beside him and he jumped in surprise.

"Having fun?" Mason asked calmly. Tyler shook his head and Mason looked around. "I'm glad to see you closed the gate- you got my gun?"

"Uh, I lost it in the church somewhere." Tyler coughed uncomfortably and Mason raised an eye brow.

"You lost it?"

"Yeah, bad circumstances. Surprises, you know?"

"Right." Mason nodded and shrugged. "Why didn't you grab the M16?" Mason had no problem with Tyler using the L1A1. It was a great weapon. It just would've made more sense to take the M16A4 considering it had a red-dot scope on it and wasn't affected by the darkness.

"It wasn't in the pickup." Tyler said blankly and shrugged. He didn't really care which gun he used as long as it did its job. Fiddling around and wasting time deciding on which gun to use was childish.

"That's because I left it in the LMV with you." Mason said flatly. "Anyway, good job, man." Mason turned and started walking toward the LMV. "Oh, and Aaron should be ok. He's hooked up to the I.V. and he'll probably be up after a bit."

"Great." Tyler nodded hard as he stared at the approaching corpses. Things were actually working out for them. Sure, the circumstances sucked but Aaron had made it and now they were inside secure walls. The cost had been horrible, though.

A rifle shot rang out from over Tyler's shoulder and one of the corpse shadows fell to the ground and Tyler turned around. He watched Mason silently. He was shooting free hand with the M16A4.

"I love that L1A1, but this is more effective as far as accuracy." Mason said in a relaxed tone and pulled the trigger again. Tyler looked down range and made a half-smirk. One more corpse had dropped to the ground. Mason fired one more time and lowered the M16. He looked at Tyler and huffed up his chest as he took a deep breath. "Want to have a drink?"

"Yeah," Tyler nodded, "Yeah I do."

"All right," Mason took a step toward the church, "oh, hold on." He walked back to the LMV and climbed inside. He opened the glove box and smiled. Six packs of cigarettes were inside. "Thanks be to God." Mason grabbed two packs and slammed the door when his feet hit the ground.

"Inside for a shot of bourbon, then lights out for a little bit?" Mason asked as he walked next to Tyler. They wandered in the broken front doors and Tyler nodded as he scratched his sweaty head of curly hair.

"Yeah, I'm burnt out." Tyler yawned. He glanced at the black-haired boy's body as they stepped into the basement stairwell. He probably wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Too much had happened.

"I might try to close my eyes for a bit." Mason rubbed his right eye with the palm of his hand and raised his eye brows when he saw Aaron glance at him. Mason grinned and nodded. "How you doing, Boss-man?"

"Not very good." Aaron closed his eyes. "I think I was happier unconscious."

"How about a cigarette?" Mason asked humbly and Aaron's eyes shot open. Mason held them up and waved them back and forth teasingly.

"YES!" Aaron said boisterously.

"Better give him one then." Tyler said with little emotion. He walked over to the wall and leaned against it then slid to the floor. He stared at his hands, then closed his eyes. A second later his head drooped forward and he began to snore. Mason looked at him and grunted passively.

"I guess he doesn't want a drink." Mason handed Aaron a cigarette and lit the end for him then put one in his own mouth. He lit it and inhaled deep; his vision becoming cloudy as the nicotine rushed his system.

"Yeah, I don't either." Aaron said honestly and chuckled painfully. He let his head fall to the floor with the cigarette sticking out of his mouth and he closed his eyes.

"Well, I'm not comfortable with us all sleeping anyway..." Mason trailed off and walked down the little hallway to the preacher's office. "I'm going to go have a look in those trailers... see if there's anything good. Our guns weren't in the LMV either, so they have to have an armory or something somewhere on the property." Mason grabbed a bottle of bourbon and walked back out into the main room. Aaron's cigarette was on the floor beside him still burning. He was snoring now too.

"Ok," Mason said sarcastically and nodded, "I can keep a conversation with myself."

Mason walked up the stairs and closed the door firmly behind him. He walked out into the courtyard with the M16A4 slung across his chest and looked over the property curiously. He'd been inside the shop already and he hadn't seen any guns or equipment that interested him. He hadn't been inside the trailer-houses, though. Tyler had and he hadn't really said anything other than the statement of the fact that he'd found medical supplies. He shrugged and began walking toward the trailers. He popped the lid off of the bourbon and took a swig. His insides burn and he grimaced. It was horrid-tasting, but the warmth it gave him inside was undeniably pleasing. He took another drink and stopped outside the first trailer. The door was wide open and a little bit of light was flickering inside. He walked up the steps and stuck his head in. There was no movement, or sound, Just that of the candle that was sitting on the counter a few yards to his left. He looked to his right and smiled lightly. There was a living-room with a couch and a love-seat and a TV stand in the corner with an old RCA 24" television set. He walked the rest of the way in and wandered off to his left. He glanced at the kitchen table that was sitting handily near the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room and glanced around curiously at the pictures and art-work that hung along the walls all the way down the all that lead to the other end of the trailer.

Mason walked down the hall and glanced inside the first bedroom on the left. He felt deja-vu. It was just like the trailer-house his uncle had at the lake when Mason was little. The only difference was that these bedrooms had two bunks in them each. he glanced in each room until he got to the master-bedroom at the end and he opened the door. There were even more bunk-beds inside inside. They were so close together that it was probably difficult for the occupants to get in them. He counted four before walking inside. He looked to his left and a gun-wrack caught his eye. There was a double-barrel shotgun and a Yugoslavian M.59/66 SKS battle-rifle hanging on it. There was a shelf on the bottom of it and a Rossi 4" barreled revolver was sitting on it waiting to be grabbed and put to use. A box of .38 special rounds was sitting next to it. He grabbed the revolver and stuffed it in his right pants pocket, then put the box of ammo in his back pocket.

Mason tiredly raised his eye brows and turned to his right. There was a large closet along the wall. He set his bourbon on one of the beds, walked to the closet and slid the door open. He grunted, slightly excited. There were endless articles of clothing hanging from hangers and shoes and boots all along the floor. At the end of the clothes there were camouflage uniforms of all different types. He stepped over to them and ran his hands over it all. There was a lot of Olive Drab green stuff. He always liked Olive Drab. It had some sort of sadism to it. That idea probably stemmed from all of the Viet Nam war movies he'd seen. He lifted one of the O.D. green uniforms out of the closet and looked it over. The tag inside the uniform top just said "medium." It looked to be a modern design, much like all of the Army's Combat Uniforms, but it was obviously made by a civilian manufacturer- though it looked to be high quality. He grunted and grabbed a green t-shirt to go with it and looked at the foot-wear on the floor. There was everything from flip-flops to running shoes. A lot of it was piled messily with one shoe of a pair here, and the other there. He glanced at some of the boots, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. They were all work boots. He was wearing U.S. Army Jump boots and he'd only had them for a few months. He'd just stick with his own footwear.

Mason went back into the hall with his new clothes and hesitated outside the bathroom door. He opened it up and stepped inside. There was a battery-powered lamp on the sink. He turned it on and stepped back in surprise when he saw himself. He was matted with blood. If only the water worked. He paused and looked at the sink. He turned a faucet and grinned when the water shot out. He put his hand under it and his teeth chattered. It was as cold as the outside air. He turned the hot-water knob as well, but the temperature didn't change. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"What to do, what to do." Mason said to himself and he turned to the shower. "Oh God this is going to be cold." He stepped forward and turned the water on inside the shower. It hesitated for a moment, coughing out small bursts before it turned into a constant stream. He stepped back and rubbed his hands together before un-zipping his boots and slipping them off of his feet. He pulled his shirt off over his head and stripped everything else off and threw it into a pile in the corner.

"Think hot places, baby." Mason said nervously and jumped it. He gasped for air as the cold water overwhelmed his body and instantly his scrotum became tight and his penis shriveled to a comical size. He shivered as his body tried to adjust to the temperature and he began trying to cleanse himself. He turned to the wall and grabbed the bar-soap off the soap-rack and washed his body then moved onto his face. He rinsed the soap off and grabbed the shampoo from the rack. He rubbed a ton into his hair; trying to break down the dried blood and wash it away. Once he'd washed out all the soap, he did it again for good measure. Once the soap was gone, he turned off the water and stepped out onto the floor mat. He opened the small closet that was beside the shower and grabbed a towel off of the pile of towels sitting neatly inside. He quickly dried off and swallowed hard as he put his dirty underwear back on and pulled on the uniform bottoms. He nodded when they fit and pulled his belt off of his jeans. Looped it through th uniform's belt loops and tightened it snugly. He slipped the t-shirt over his head and tucked it in before putting on the uniform top and buttoning it all the way up to the second to last button. Then, as a habit, he rolled up the sleeves to shoulder-length and looked in the mirror. He fixed his now-clean hair and shook his head. He looked silly without a vest or pistol-belt at least. He thought so anyway. He'd have to fix that.

Mason slipped his boots back on and walked back out into the hall. He went back into the master bedroom and dug through the closet some more before accepting defeat. There were no pistol-belts, or vests, or any other accessories he could use to make himself actually look complete. He sighed. There were still four more trailers to check. He grabbed the lamp from the bathroom and slung his M-16 back over his chest before making his way back out into the courtyard. He walked over the the next trailer and opened the door. It was the same. The whole place was a copy of the first. He checked the closets and the bedrooms and left each in disappointment.

Mason moved through each and every trailer before getting to the fourth. When he opened the door and stepped in he paused. This was different. There was no furniture. The counter had been removed and there were no appliances. There were also no bedrooms and no bathroom. It was one large, opened room. There were lockers lining the walls and a large wooden table where the master-bedroom would have been. He raised the lamp and walked forward to the lockers directly in front of him. He opened one and smirked. It was piled hi with what looked like surplus ammo. He leaned forward an read the top of the first steel case: 7.62x39mm SP. It was a bunch of soft-point AKM-47 ammo. He stepped the next locker and opened it. There were endless boxes of 12-gauge ammo. It was a cluster-fuck of brands but nearly all of it was 00-Buck.

Mason moved to locker after locker. It was all ammunition for the seven or eight, then suddenly it turned to equipment. He paused at the third. There were several pistol-belts with two pistol-magazine pouches and four Stanag-magazine pouches for M-16 magazines each hanging from hooks and three molle-style plate carrier vests stuffed in at the bottom. Two if the vests were black and one was coyote-brown. Mason grabbed the coyote-brown one and slipped it on then grabbed one of the pistol belts. He wrapped it around his waist and snapped the hooks together happily. His outfit was coming together nicely now. He wandered down the isle, checking each one quickly. He found a leg holster for a model 17 Glock and a leg-magazine holster to go with it. He fitted it all as snugly as e could before he finally hit the jack-pot.

"You psychotic fucks." Mason said out loud when he opened a locker toward the end of the trailer. There were six AKM-47's inside. He took one out and whistled. They must have had at least one gun-guy in the group. The AK had been machined. There was a picatinny rail on top with an Eotech Holographic site mounted on it. He looked at the selector switch and shook his head. It wasn't a real AKM, but it had been fiddled with and modified to fire on full-auto. He popped the receiver-cover off of it and looked inside. There looked to be high-quality parts inside; likely replaced by whoever modified it to fire in automatic. It still had the classic wooden furniture, though; something Mason appreciated. He put the receiver cover back on and put the gun back in the locker. He closed it up and sighed. There were obviously more guns than he could handle in the little trailer. He'd need a chair and the bourbon to go through them. He sighed and shook his head. But he didn't feel like going through them. He'd handled so many guns in the past week that he felt burnt out from it. He turned toward the door. Tomorrow would be a better day.

Mason wandered back to the first trailer where he'd left the bourbon. He grabbed it off of the bunk in the master-bedroom and went back into the living-room and sat down on the couch. He put his legs up on the coffee table in front of it and took the to off of the bourbon.

"Here's to country livin' and bow-legged women." Mason took a drink and the warmth engulfed him. Aya flowed into his mind and he took another drink. Was it really any surprise that she had died? He couldn't really say that it was. God, or some other force had been trying to take everything he loved since the day he was born. He'd had few friends throughout his entire school-career. They'd come and gone like summer love-affairs. He'd had a girlfriend here and a girlfriend there, but they'd always come up with some excuse about him not being what they wanted. The alway wanted Mr. Basketball and Mr. Football, or they wanted a guy who could play guitar or who was the most popular. He'd never fit into any of those categories. He'd always been the same. He'd liked guns and a fight here and there and people had scowled at him for it, or rolled their eyes. Mason drank more and more and as the depressant took took its effect, his thoughts became more and more negative and the tears began making their way out of his tear-ducts.

There was no point in continuing really. Mason thought as he stared at his feet and wept openly. Nothing he loved or cared about existed anymore. His parents were surely gone and the last person to appreciate him for what he was had been executed before his eyes. What was left to live for? It had taken him five years and a horrible circumstance to find someone who had feelings for him. Was it his own fault? Probably. Most thing were. His anxiety toward people and fear of being judged for what he was had always made him distant. The alcohol never helped. For him it wasn't liquid courage. It just made him want to fight, or be alone. To him, it was all plain and simple. He just wasn't very likable. He didn't have common interests with other people or have anything interesting to bring to the table. He was a throwback. Any love that could be felt for him by anyone had died with the calm of every day living. He rubbed his eyes dry and let his head fall back. He really had no reason to live. Eating a bullet was the easy way out and it was calling his name. He didn't want that, though. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to live either. More tears fell and he shook his head. This was what happened when he had time to think. He cried and cried and thought about everything he had lost and regretted. This was what waited for him at the green-zone. Time to recollect and relive the pain of everything that had happened. No, he couldn't have that. He had to keep doing what he was actually capable of: killing. The destruction of man kind's now-common enemy. It was the only thing that could keep his mind away from self-destruction.

Mason's tears stopped and he let the bottle of bourbon drop the the floor. He wouldn't be going to the green-zone.


	16. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Splinter

_"Take a day_

_plant some trees_

_may they shade you from me"- Smashing Pumpkins_

Tyler's eyes cracked open and his head snapped to attention. He was in pure darkness, not really sure where he was. He hadn't remembered closing his eyes, though he remembered being in the church. He ran his fingers along the ground beneath him and felt the damp dirt. He was in the church basement.

"Mason?" Tyler whispered. His heart-beat increased when there was no response. He listened carefully for a moment before Aaron's voice caused him to jump in surprise.

"Yeah, I was calling to both of you like an hour ago." Aaron said with pain evident in his voice. "I thought you'd left me to die like some water-boarded illegal alien. Then you started snoring, though, thank Christ."

"How do you feel?" Tyler grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. He yawned and climbed to his feet to look for the stairwell.

"I feel like God took a burning shit on me." Aaron said flatly. "It hurts to fucking breathe." He groaned and Tyler grunted as he stumbled forward on the staircase that led to the surface. He paused and cocked his head. There was muffled music piercing the stairwell.

"Mason's up." Tyler grunted passively and ran up the stairs; ignoring something inaudible Aaron said behind him and swinging open the door. It slammed into the doorstop and he stepped into the holy-hallway. "Well thats- polite." Tyler grunted as his eyes scanned the areas where all the carnage had been the night before. There were no longer any bodies in the church, though, the evidence of the violence that had ended the previous day was still obvious. Dried blood, shell casings, and the smell of burnt cordite still lingered.

Tyler sighed and ran his hands through his hair as he walked to the front doors and opened them a crack to see outside. Like inside the church, the front courtyard was devoid of dead bodies, but the beat-up brown pickup they'd stolen from the young men outside of the mine was idling on the gravel driveway with The Eagles playing loudly from the tape-deck. He walked up to it and reached into the cab to the ignition. He switched it off and slammed the door shut. No need to waste gas.

"Where you at, Superman?" Tyler said under his breath as he scanned the entire compound. Mason was nowhere in sight, though, the doors of the shop were slid open and the LMV was parked outside of it with the rear hatch opened. He took a deep breath and began his walk across the courtyard; eyeing the sky as he walked across the brown grass. It was a beautiful day, perfect for late April. All of the snow had disappeared and signs of spring flooding were probably evident all over Grand Forks. It had become a yearly thing now. Rather than the once per century floods of the old days, the flooding had gotten worse with each and every spring thaw. It had always been a hassle when he'd lived in Hallock. Instead of taking the interstate, he would have to go south to Argyle Minnesota, then go through East Grand Forks to the only open bridge. Things had changed, though. Drayton North Dakota had built a higher bridge that cleared the Red River even at its worst. Now the traffic kept flowing regardless of the raging river waters. "Day dreaming?" Mason's humored voice carried across the yard and Tyler looked up.

"Yep!" Tyler shouted and stretched his hand out like a Nazi salute. Mason nodded with a grin and placed a five-gallon fuel-tank in the back of the LMV. He scratched his head as Tyler stepped up beside him and looked over the contents that he had scrounged together.

"Twenty-five gallons of fuel?" Tyler nodded. "How much is in the tank?"

"It's full." Mason grunted and pointed at a collection of ammo boxes closer to the front of the vehicle. "Plus, about 400 rounds of .45 ball, 200 rounds of 9mm ball, 360 rounds of .556, 200 12-gauge rounds and some .22 Long-rifle. Most of it is packed loosely." Mason shrugged. "There's a Glock 19, 9mm and a Glock 17, 9mm in the front cab along with a series 70 Colt Commander, .45 auto and a Glock 21 SF, .45 auto. I didn't pack any long guns up other than your Benelli. I found it in their weapons trailer. It was tucked away in a locker along with a couple break-open double barrels and a couple pump-actions."

"Oh, good, good, good." Tyler rubbed his hands together. He was excited to get his hands back on his 12-gauge repeater. It required less reloading and no down time from operating the bolt mechanism. He could handle it like no other. The Glock 17 was a good bonus too. He'd gotten attached to the one he'd carried and knew what to expect from it: no bells and whistles, but completely reliable. Reliability was everything.

"I kind of figured you'd appreciate that." Mason smirked. "I figured I'd just let Aaron pick whatever he wanted when he felt like moving around a little."

"Yeah, he's awake and talking." Tyler tipped his head thoughtfully. "I guess he woke up and no one would respond to him this morning, so he thought we'd left him."

"No shit?" Mason laughed and trailed off. "Yeah... I guess its hard to know what to expect anymore, huh?"

"Right." Tyler nodded. "I don't think there's anything that could really surprise us anymore- maybe just disappoint." He looked past Mason and his eye brows raised with excitement when he saw what was parked just inside the doorway of the shop. "Holy shit, what is that?" There was a black muscle car sitting with the driver-side door open and the trunk popped.

"1971 Chevy Chevelle. It's got a 350 V8 auto in it and the tires look new. There was a lot of blood inside, but I cleaned it up and it just smells like new car now." Mason crossed his arms and walked up to the Chevelle. Tyler quickly passed him and paused when he saw the back was loaded up with equipment.

"You going to roll up behind us in this?" Tyler grinned. In all of its glory, the LMV was pretty cool, but a Chevelle was a diamond; especially in the current hell-hole of a world. Rare was extra-rare now and being cool was something only a few could manage.

"I, uh-" Mason hesitated, "I was thinking about it." He didn't want to tell Tyler his decision of not continuing their journey to the safety of the Green-Zone. He knew he'd be letting Tyler down and he wasn't sure if either of their hearts could take it. He had made a decision, though. He couldn't live in a world of dormant safety while knowing that his family and friends from home had never made it. That was the harsh reality.

"Oh, that would be so sweet." Tyler shook his head; taking in the sight of the mighty classic-car.

"Tyler, I'm not coming with you." Mason said flatly.

"What?" Tyler cocked an eye at him and tipped his head in confusion. "What do you mean? You going to stay here and subsistence farm? Raise a family in the comfort of a walled-in church?" Tyler wrinkled his eye brows. "You're not serious?"

"Tyler," Mason said softly with a shake of his head, "I can't live in peace without knowing what happened where I'm from. I can't sit idolly in some place, powerless, when all of my friends and family were just plain unlucky enough to be living on the exact opposite end of the country as the green-zone when hell invaded earth. I can't."

Tyler ran his hand through his hair and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. He felt himself begin to sweat and the thoughts and possibilities of things to come began flowing through his mind like a tidal-wave of overwhelming human emotion. He felt his stomach become sick and his skin begin to burn.

"You want this?" Tyler yelled suddenly as he straightened his back. His eyes were wide and enraged. "Don't you remember everything we've gone through? Every horrible fucking thing that happened to us is just waiting to happen to YOU again if you go back out there! You can't do this alone, Mason! You'll die out there! I don't want you to fucking die! You're my only friend left alive! Are you fucking dense?"

"Tyler," Mason said calmly, "I'm glad you're almost home, but I'm further away than when we started. There are things I need to do before I can settle down-

"Kill?" Tyler interrupted him with no hesitation. "You want to kill a little more, Mason? Haven't you had enough fucking killing for one life time? Huh? Tell me the truth! You want to fucking keep killing!"

"I'll kill until there's none of them fucking left!" Mason roared back with rage. "I'll kill them until there are no bullets left to shoot and then I'll pick up a fucking axe and I'll keep going." Mason snarled his lips. "Because as long as they're out there, people are going to be forced to feel everything we've felt for the rest of eternity and I can't let that stand!" Mason unclenched his fists and swallowed hard. "I want to go home, Tyler, so I can see if my mother and father died at home, or if they're wandering around. I want to know what happened to my grand-parents, and my cousins, and my ex-girlfriends. I just need some answers." He turned away and Tyler took a deep, slow breath and exhaled.

"I really want you with me, man." Tyler shook his head. "What am I supposed to do if no one I know is left?"

"You're going to be ok." Mason smiled. "If you've got no friends left, Aaron will be with you and I'll show up some day. I promise."

"I don't think promises are reasonable to make under the current circumstances." Tyler grumbled. "Not today, not tomorrow... I don't know when."

"Well I promise anyway." Mason shrugged. "It's all I can do."

"Fubar." Tyler grunted.

"A lot of that going around." Mason half-smiled. "It's all snafu."

Both of them looked up suddenly as a painful groan erupted from the church.

"I'm in kind of a bad place here!" Aaron's voice roared across the court-yard. "I don't think I can walk anymore!"

"I got him." Tyler sighed. He walked to the LMV and climbed in. He started the ignition as he closed the door and spun out toward the church's front doors. He kept his eyes on the doors as he rolled the LMV to a stop and hopped out onto the grass. He winced as the sun hit his eyes again and he jogged into the hallway. Aaron looked up at him with a painful grimace. He was just at the top of the stairs.

"Would you like a little help?" Tyler asked sarcastically and Aaron nodded.

"Yeah, that would be pretty okay." Aaron croaked as Tyler crouched down and took one of Aaron's arms over his shoulder. They pushed off of the floor at the same time and Aaron groaned in pain as they successfully stood up.

"Never again," Aaron panted, "Remind me to invest in some level 3 body armor."

"You and Mason both." Tyler grunted; noting that he was the only one who hadn't been shot yet. He was looking to keep it that way.

"I heard yelling." Aaron said through quick, painful breaths, "What happened?"

"Well," Tyler helped Aaron into the passenger seat of the LMV, "Mason isn't coming with us anymore."

"He's what?" Aaron's eyes opened wide and Tyler slammed the door.

Aaron bantered with obvious discontent in his voice as Mason and Tyler continued to put supplies in the back of the LMV. He wasn't excited about Mason's decision to splinter away from the group and leave him and Tyler short handed. Working in a group of three allowed two to stand guard while one slept; the company of one keeping the other sharp and on-point. Plus, what was the real point of separating? They were so close to the green-zone now and they'd gone through enough as it was. Wasn't the light at the end of the tunnel intriguing enough for Mason to divulge in?

"I just don't think it's a good idea, man." Aaron shook his head. "I see your point as far as your family is concerned, but what if they're already at the green-zone? You're close enough to check and see- maybe duck out afterward. You could even just take a break from the shit for a while; just lay low and relax for a few days-"

"I'm not going, Aaron." Mason spat a loogie onto the gravel at his feet and shrugged. "I don't want to be there. I don't want to live a life in hiding, under control of a government that fucked us over in the first place. I want to make the decisions for personal reasons, rather than the strategic goals of a political shadow-monster."

"It's not always about fucking politics," Tyler shook his head; impatient and bitter, "sometimes it's just about doing what's right."

"Well you don't know what's right for everyone all the time, Tyler." Mason glared at Tyler impatiently. "I know you think you do- you always make the most rounded, most well thought out, most sturdy and careful decisions. Well I think that's bullshit. Everything you do is for personal reasons just like I'm doing right now, but mine don't match yours so you're going to be a disgruntled prick about it." Mason crossed his arms and held his ground as Tyler spun around and walked up to him; standing off just as confidently.

"Ok, ok, cut it out." Aaron said uncomfortably. "You're on the same side- think about it. If you weren't friends, neither of you would have made it this far. Just think about that... EVERYBODY LOVE EVERYBODY!" He grimaced as pain shot through his body and he put his hand gently on his bullet-wound.

"Yeah," Tyler looked at Aaron, then passively at Mason, "well I guess you know better than anyone else, huh?"

"Don't flip that around on me." Mason glared, "I'm not making decisions for anybody anymore. Maybe you ought to take the same fucking route. After all, you don't have the balls to face off with someone once it actually comes down to it."

Tyler spun and threw a surprise left-hook into the side of Mason's face; knocking him back a few steps. Before Mason could react, Tyler threw himself into Mason's waist and tackled him roughly to the ground.

"Get the fuck off me, asshole!" Mason wrapped his legs around Tyler's waist in Brazilian ground-fighting fashion and held him back; throwing a hard jab into Tyler's left eye brow as Tyler fought to come in with another blow. Mason threw another jab and turned Tyler over sideways with his leg strength. Before Tyler could regain his balance; Mason slammed all his weight onto his back and punched his hard in the spine, but Tyler swung his head back hard and bashed the back of his skull into Mason's mouth; causing blood to gush profusely from his lip. Mason slammed his right fist into the back of Tyler's head and it down from the impact. The aggression was reaching the point of no return.

A gunshot sounded and dirt kicked up inches from Mason's leg causing him to jump back in surprise. His eyes went to Aaron. He was holding a Colt Commander 1911 at the ready and didn't look pleased.

"You two need to calm the fuck down." Aaron said firmly in a tone the two young men had never heard from him. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead and he wiped it away with his forearm. "You're making this fucking tense for me and I don't at all appreciate it. So... don't." They both looked at Aaron calmly; gasping for air, then Mason looked at Tyler with a thoughtful expression.

"You know, I don't think I've ever been punched that hard before." Mason smirked; looking at Tyler.

"Psh," Tyler grunted, "I've never been punched before at all." He rubbed the back of his head and wiped the caking blood from his nose. "Eric head-butted me once when we were younger, but it was an accident."

"Yeah, that's a bleeder." Aaron pointed at Mason's still-gushing lip and Mason put his forearm against it; nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, I can feel it." Mason clenched his teeth and put his hand against his bandaged shoulder. He could feel the bullet wound bleeding under his shirt. "But it doesn't hurt as bad as this fucking bullet-hole does."

"Tell me about it." Aaron felt his own bullet wound and hobbled back to the passenger-door of the LMV. "I wish this was one of those things you could just walk-off."

Mason snickered from the ground and cupped his mouth, watching as Tyler got to his feet and walked, light headed, to the back of the LMV. He leaned inside and looked at all of the equipment, then turned to the Chevelle parked in the shop and shook his head. There was a whole lot of room in the LMV, but not so much in the Chevelle. The LMV was also designed to work dependably in a warzone. The Chevelle was a street car.

"This is absolutely ridiculous." Tyler looked at Mason and Mason tipped his head, then nodded passively.

"Maybe so, brother. Maybe so." Mason pushed himself off the the ground. "But I've got a bone to pick with these motherfuckers." Mason looked off toward the gate and spat a stream of bloody spit onto the ground. There were at least thirty corpses massed at the steel door.

"We maybe ought to cut a few of them down- who knows how much that gate can hold." Aaron stared, concerned, at the gate and took a deep painful breath. Mason walked up beside him and sighed. He bit his swollen lip lightly and winced.

"We've got quite a bit of .22 caliber laying around here. How about a little target practice?" Mason shuffled toward the back of the LMV beside Tyler and Aaron nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds pretty okay." Aaron said under his breath and turned. He watched as Mason pulled a Ruger 10/22 rifle out of the back of the LMV and a .22 Ruger Mk. II pistol. He walked up to Aaron and held both out.

"Which one do you want?"

"Oh, give me the pistol." Aaron said thoughtfully. "I like to see what I can do at fifty yards with one of these every once in a while." Mason handed him the gun and Aaron cocked the slide while Mason smirked and handed Tyler the .22 rifle.

"Here you go, hitman." Mason stuck out his swollen lip proudly. "I've got one in the truck." Tyler grabbed the Ruger 10/22 from Mason's hands and glared at him.

"You have emotional issues that I can't help you with." Tyler raised the .22 and aimed down the sights. He fired off a round and wrinkled his nose when there was no reaction from the corpse he was aiming at.

"It might be sighted in lower than you're shooting." Aaron said calmly as he aimed the .22 Ruger. "Try aiming a little higher- top of the head maybe." Aaron fired off a round and the bullet struck the side of the forehead of a female corpse wearing a basketball uniform. She hesitated for a moment then continued banging on the gate mindlessly. "Hm." Aaron grunted. He aimed again and pulled the trigger. This time the bullet struck her nasal cavity and she dropped to the ground lifelessly. "See, this ammo might be shitty too." Aaron realigned the sights on another corpse's face and squeezed the grip nearly as hard as he could. His arms trembled slightly as the pain of his gunshot wound ripped through his entire body. He squeezed the trigger and grunted when he missed. He looked at Tyler and nodded. "I seem to have a case of torque-wrench hand. It's jerking about every other shot."

"I hear you." Tyler walked around to the other side of the L.M.V. and leaned on the hood. "Plus, you've got a hole in your guts." He took a shot and a small spatter of black, gooey blood erupted from a dead man's face. He fired again and missed. "My problem seems to be that I just never shot rifles enough when I was younger. I was more of a bird-hunter."

"Well it's not like shotguns aren't cool." Aaron took another shot with the Ruger and swore when the poorly cared for weapon stove-pipe jammed. He pulled back the slide and shook the used shell-casing out of the action. "Those God damn fools need to figure out how to take care of their weapons." He looked off toward the church and shrugged. "I guess it's too late now."

"Here, look at this!" Mason ran up to the LMV and raised a bolt-action .22 up. He smirked and Aaron nodded with raised eye brows.

"Aw, a CZ. Okay, that's cool." Aaron leaned against the LMV and Mason nodded.

"Yeah, they had some of those Romanian .22 training rifles you can get for like sixty bucks too, but they're all so mangled. This was about the nicest one in the trailer. I guess one of these can come in handy if I run out of ammo for everything else. I can easily carry over a thousand rounds in my pack without it bothering me."

"Yeah, you better stock up on other stuff too, though." Aaron said seriously. "If you run into anyone like these guys, you're going to want more than a .22 rimfire." Aaron watched as Mason lined up the sights and took shot. A teen female corpse's head recoiled slightly and she took a step forward before falling to the ground on her face. Her body began to twitch wildly and Mason nodded with a grin.

"Don't even worry about it, man." Mason looked at Aaron. "These people were the fucking "Branch Davidians" all over again. They've got all kinds of stuff piled up. Look at what I'm fucking wearing!"

Aaron nodded. Mason was wearing a green B.D.U. shirt with the sleeves rolled up along with his jeans and a pair of combat boots. He was wearing what looked like a armored plate-carrier over the shirt along with a chest rig that was obviously designed to hold at least twenty-four 30-round stanag-magazines for the M-16, or six 200 round box magazines for the M249 saw. It looked to be packed with AR magazines already.

"Well you're going to need at least a billion rounds to stop them all." Tyler spat; irritated. "I hope you can find that many out there."

"It don't take a bullet to kill one of them suckers." Mason said calmly. "Reminds me of a saying- 'If I understand it, I can hunt it. If I don't understand it, it can hunt me.' Sound right? Just means I ought to understand these motherfuckers before I get out there and start knocking them down like bowling pins."

"Well yeah," Tyler nodded, "if you can figure out exactly how they think and why, or how, or whatever the fuck, they could be a lot easier to avoid, or deal with when it's necessary."

"Do you think they can smell us?" Aaron interrupted. "I mean... Look at them all at the gate. There's maybe twenty-five of them right now just looking to get in here and go to town on the buffet that staring at them. Did they come because they heard gunfire in the distance? Did the breeze carry our scent for miles? Or did some unknown messenger just fucking tell them that we were here? I mean... if they can't fucking smell us... how the fuck do they know?"

"I don't know, man." Mason shook his head. "This shit seems completely devoid of reason. Can you come up with a non science-fiction explanation for why the hell dead bodies just randomly started waking up? You can't shoot a body up with drugs and cause it to get up and kill people. They're fucking dead and there's no cure for that, but they did it anyway- without the drugs of course. I don't think you could google that shit and expect to get a reasonable answer."

"God's pissed off, that's all." Tyler spat on the ground and kicked the gravel. He looked off into the sunlight and wrinkled his forehead. "You ever notice how no matter where you go, someone's complaining about the existence of God, or the belief of him? Atheists are a strange breed. They aren't a religion by definition. They simply believe it's nature and then us. Yet, when they find out you believe, they freak out like your taking a jab at them personally. And then, instead of just continuing to not believe, they go out and protest the belief of God, or the praise of God on the legal level. They have this drive to destroy the belief. I don't want to knock anyone's beliefs, but they're a fucked up bunch of know-it-all ass-fucks. Maybe there is no God, but you don't have to go out and fight just to destroy a belief that all-in-all doesn't affect you. It's like they're threatened by believing in something they can't prove or disprove." Tyler shook his head and scowled. "I believe in God because the impossible happens here and there. I just think he's purging the world because of all of this hate, discontent, and savagery that has taken over everything. Do you have a better explanation?"

"If I'd had a better explanation I probably would have shit it all over you in the middle of your angry schpeel." Aaron said without even a hint of humor in his voice. "I don't really know what I believe. I want to believe in what's right, but it's hard with all of the clout all the time, plus I'm not as informed as I'd like to be as far as all of that goes. I believe in something bigger... I just don't know what to call it yet."

"You'll figure it out sometime." Mason said flatly; staring at the front gate. "Everyone goes through their fazes; affected by their experiences and feelings compiled throughout the years of their life. We all stand on our own in a way- driven to know and to feel like we belong in some group,some place, some... place that is more important than the one we're in, or experiencing now. We all want to know there is more to our existence than the vague and vile drive for money and material. We want to believe that if we are good and if we are righteous, we can bring ourselves to a place that is beyond even what we perceive as priceless and unbelievable now." Mason looked at Tyler than Aaron. "We stand together, alone... in this unforseeable puzzle that is life, but every puzzle can be solved. We're solving this shit... right now."

"You're a fucking weirdo." Tyler grunted. "It's awesome."

"Someone's gotta be fucked up." Aaron shrugged. "It might as well be someone we know."

"Yeah," Mason smirked, "I guess that's about the best I have going for me." He walked to the Chevelle in the shop and reached into the back. He pulled out a bottle of bourbon and raised is eye brows. "You guys feel like taking the edge off?"

"Ah, fuck it." Tyler smirked. "One or two can't hurt." Tyler walked up to Mason and took the bottle from him. He and Mason both looked at Aaron and Aaron sighed; looking off toward the corpses at the gate.

"Well, my guts feel like they're on fire... so I think I'd better have a few. Maybe I can kill the sting a little." He began to hobble forward and Mason and Tyler grinned. They might as well make a party out of their separation. God knew there weren't many celebrations going on anymore. The world needed one.

One drink led to two and three before Tyler put a stop to it. He and Mason were feeling a strong buzz coming on as everything took on a light blur and fuzzy haze and uncontrolled emotions began to float around their minds like free radicals. They didn't need to start crying and reliving the life of past days. That was something a man should do on his own time- not when accompanied by friends.

"Ok, well I guess packing is pretty much done other than topping shit off with cool toys and maybe a few calories worth of food." Mason stumbled forward and Tyler slapped him hard on the back.

"Are you too fucked up to do this shit or what? Get your bearings, boy!"

"I'm fine with whatever," Aaron waved a hand passively, "As long as it's sighted in and it goes "boom."

"There are plenty of AK's in that trailer, tough only a few of them are select-fire It's hard to tell if they're heat-treated receivers or not. I'd just as soon fire them on semi-auto only- but they'll go boom for sure. I believe there to be a Polish AKM-47C with American made parts in there. That's probably your best bet- seems to be select-fire as well."

"Well is there ammo for it?" Aaron was sitting in the drivers seat of the L.M.V. and he shifted his body slightly to look in the back, but clenched his teeth in pain and gave up and his tender bullet-wound screamed at him with a firey rage.

"Not in the back," Mason replied, "but they have a lot of old com-bloc stuff still in boxes. There's not a tremendous amount, but they were pretty well-off."

"You've got some 556 back here though?" Aaron pointed to the back wigth his thumb and Mason nodded.

"Yeah, twelve magazines worth." Mason walked to the back of the vehicle and pulled a Bushmaster Ar-15 out. It had the standard A2 fixed carry-handle rear-sight. "This is a Stag-Arms model that's select-fire. "Traill County Sheriff" is stamped on the side of the receiver. I figure they killed a cop for it, tough I didn't see any cop cars out back."

"They probably shot it up and left it wherever it was." Tyler grumbled. "Bunch of fucking assholes."

"Yeah," Mason glanced at Tyler, then back at Aaron. "That's about all of the good .223 ammo they had. It's all XM193 steel penetrator rounds. I'll stick with the regular stuff they have- it's a mixture of Wolf, PMC, and steel-cased shit like that- maybe some nice Remington stuff too. I think there are some re-manufactured reloads too, but I didn't look at it all too closely."

"Say, they didn't have any H&K P30's, or H&K 45's did they?" Aaron smirked and Mason grinned; taking a step back.

"Yeah," Mason nodded. He pulled an H&K P30 9mm pistol from the small of his back and offered it to Aaron.

"O-h n-o,"Aaron said in an amazed tone and he took it from Mason's hand. He looked down the sights and groaned. "Oh God, they're almost too awesome to shoot." He removed the magazine and ejected the live round from the chamber. He re-aimed again and squeezed the trigger. It clicked and he shivered with delight. Without letting the trigger go, he racked the slide and slowly let the trigger forward. About a quarter of the way, it clicked and he shook his head. "I don't like that trigger reset, though. It's too long."

"Yeah, I know." Mason nodded. "But every other bit of its existence in completely awesome in an agonizing sort of way."

"Yes," Aaron agreed, "it really is. And really, when do you actually need an extremely short reset? I'm not sure how much double tapping or extremely rapid fire anyone actually does."

"Are you guys going to be done jizzing over that gun any time soon?" Tyler grunted from the back of the L.M.V. "I know this is a farewell and all, but if we're going to separate, then we might as well get going."

"Yeah it's done, man." Mason nodded at Tyler firmly, then looked back at Aaron. "You want it?"

"Nah, I don't need it." Aaron shook his head. "We've got the Glocks and I like them just fine- and that AR should do a good enough job- I don't think we need an AK; not if we're just headed up north another twelve hours or so. You just keep it."

"If you say so." Mason shrugged, "Though I was thinking about just leaving it and taking a very new-looking Beretta 92 FS with a threaded barrel they have in there and putting the suppressor I have for the M-39 on it."

"Well," Aaron looked around, "ok, fine." He put the P30 on the passengers seat and Mason put out his hand.

"It was nice hanging out with you, pal."

"Yeah," Aaron shook Mason's hand firmly. "Now don't go and get killed. I want to see you sometime as a normal person under normal circumstances."

"I'll keep that in mind." Mason grinned.

"Hey!" Tyler barked and Mason looked over at him. "How about some food?"

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "Follow me."

While Aaron waited patiently in the L.M.V. Tyler and Mason loaded canned goods and a smattering of M.R.E's into the back of the truck. It didn't take long, though they decided at the last minute to add a conservative amount of medical supplies including fresh gauze, alcohol and a bottle of pain killers that were in a cabinet in the church basement. When it was all said and done, the L.M.V was packed to capacity. All that was left was the final goodbye.

"Well I suppose when we open that door, they're all going to flood in like Mosquitos." Tyler sighed; staring at the corpses wandering around outside the front gate.

"We might as well make some fun out of it." Mason spat onto the gravel at his feet. Let me grab an AK." He walked to the Chevelle and took an AKMS-47 with a wooden front grip and a side-folding wire style stock out of the back and cocked the bolt; loading a fresh round into the chamber. He walked back to the L.M.V. with a pleased smirk on his face.

"Select-fire, 7.62x39mm soviet... this shit is going to fuck them up whether I get a headshot or not."

"Same here." Tyler lifted the Benelli shotgun up just enough so Mason could see the barrel and Aaron cocked the slide on the P30.

"Let's bring 'em down to cripple town, baby." Mason smiled a large sadistic smile and turned to the gate and began walking toward it. With that, Tyler started the L.M.V.'s engine and began rolling along right next to Mason's path; coming to a halt about five yards from the securely locked gate and the soulless creatures it was keeping out.

"Now hold on." Aaron said before Mason could raise the AK. "This thing has a CD player we haven't used yet. I wonder if there's something in it." He pressed the power button and turned the volume way up. They waited for a moment and Tyler's eye brows raised happily as the first few tunes began to play. "Oye Como Va" by Santana began to play.

"O-hhh, perfect!" Aaron said with pure joy. "Ok, now we can start."

Mason smirked over his shoulder and put the wire-stock of he AKM against his shoulder. He didn't look down the sights, he just pointed and his finger rubbed against the trigger. The unique bark of the AKM 7.62x39mm cartridge cracked through the air at a consistent 600 round per minute rate and Mason swayed the barrel back and forth; fighting to keep it from rising up toward the sky. The 123 grain Full Metal Jacket rounds did their job. Upon impact, the corpse bodies shook and jerked; some of them falling as legs and spines were broken by the undeniable force and wicked ballistics of the soviet cartridge. Mason's emotions didn't change. Little more than his hate for them ran through his mind as he watched the savage show unfold by his hand. The firing pin clicked when the magazine went empty and he pressed the magazine release. He threw out the empty magazine and put in another; hooking the front of the mag inside the magazine-well and rotating it upward as per soviet-doctrine and necessity. He cocked the bolt and pointed the barrel outward again and squeezed the trigger back; keeping it in the crook of his finger. The bullets kicked up dirt and his body shook rhythmically as the recoil ran through him. Black, gooey blood spewed from ravaged bullet holes and malicious force caused undeniable damage in once-human tissue; forcing the dead down to the ground in motionless heaps. The gun went dry again and Mason again dropped out the empty magazine. He threw the AKM to the ground at his side and drew his Beretta.

"Ok, Cowboy." Tyler's voice said hesitantly, but Mason didn't listen. He aimed the Beretta at the face of one of the last standing corpses and pulled the trigger. A part of its skill exploded off the back of its head and it fell to the ground.

"Hey, come on now." Aaron's voice said nervously. "Just let us finish it up." Mason ignored him. He fired a round into another's head and it teetered sideways and a puff of dust went up into the air as its body hit the gravel beneath it. For a second he paused and stared at the last corpse.

"You hungry motherfucker?" Mason tipped his head. His voice was soft and calm. "You want something to eat, huh?" The corpse came to the gate put put its hands against the bars. It shook them with the dull, tired strength of a dying person. "Say 'ah' mother fucker." The corpse moaned and Mason stuck the Beretta's barrel in its mouth. He pulled the trigger as the corpse grabbed his arm and the contents of its decomposing cranium erupted behind its head and decorated its dead compatriots in a film of blackish goo.

"You done?" Tyler's hesitant, yet mildly irritated voice came from over Mason's shoulder. Mason turned around, looked at both of his friends in the eye, and took a deep breath; his chest heaving before he let it out.

"You guys have no idea what you mean to me." Mason looked at the ground and he shook his head. "Tyler, you've been there for everything. Every step of the way, here and before, you always had something to say that helped me, no matter how ridiculous it was. Thanks, brother. No matter what happens, I won't forget you." Mason's eyes went to Aaron. "Aaron, I've never grown fond of someone so quickly. Every step of my life, I've always given myself a reason to not trust someone, or to simply think they were moronic. You and your personality simply couldn't allow me to feel that way. You're awesome and I think your are marginally more valuable than you'll ever know you are. You kick ass, dude. You'll make it, especially with Thompson, trust me."

"I think you should just-"

"Don't," Mason interrupted Tyler unapologetically, "I don't want to hear it. It's just going to make things harder on me later on and I don't need the grief."

"If I meet your mother and she finds out I let you stay out here, I'm sure I'll be killed." Tyler said as-a-matter-of-factly."

"Just don't tell her. She won't know the difference. She's not going to be there anyway." Mason's eyes went to the ground; dark and sad.

"That's the alcohol talking." Tyler said positively. "That's the bad part about that shit. Makes you feel awesome at the beginning, then it makes you all weird and emotional. We probably stopped at the right time; warm as it makes me feel inside."

"I'm not emotional." Mason shook his head. "Just being realistic." He looked toward the gate. "I'm not going home expecting to find smiling faces waiting for my arrival. I'm going home to see the truth and get an idea of what happened... to everyone." Mason smirked a dry, less than stellar smirk. "THEN... I'll be emotional."

"You watch your ass out there." Tyler said firmly with a serious glare and a shake of his head. "If you die, I'm kicking your ass."

"Yeah, I hear you." Mason smiled and trailed off, looking back toward the shop. "here's about half a bottle of that whiskey left- you boy's want it?"

"No, I don't think I need to be intoxicated the whole trip. That little bit should last me until I'm in a place where I'm comfortable."

"I think I could maybe use a little more." Aaron croaked from his seat. His face was very red and his expression painful and desperate. He touched his gunshot wound lightly and gritted his teeth; fighting off a serious case of nausea. His shirt was stuck to the dried blood that had been seeping out of him off and on since he'd begun moving around. The alcohol had cooled the unbearable burning sensation coursing through him, but not enough to let him relax. Half a bottle of the stuff might, though, and the possibility was worth the try- even with the very real consequence of a serious hangover. He didn't want to consciously admit it, but a part of him was desperate to get going. They still had a long drive ahead of them, and anything could happen under the uncontrollable circumstances. The alcohol would wear off within hours, and even half a bottle would disappear quickly and his wound wouldn't heal correctly without professional attention. There were too many variables they couldn't control. Sure, Mason had done a great job and probably saved Aaron's life, but out in the wild world there was no way he could function. They had to move before it totally immobilized him.

"Well I'll get it, then I guess that's that, huh?" Mason shrugged and an awkward silence followed. This was the final goodbye and both Tyler and Aaron knew that this was most definitely the last time they would see their friend's face. Alone, in a savage world where desperation and violence had become acceptable and standardized a man did not stand an honest chance, no matter how noble or pure his cause. What he planned to do was climb a mountain naked, a mountain of the starving, flesh hungry dead with no summit. He was oddly calm.

"Well, I'll go get that then..."

Neither Aaron nor Tyler said anything while Mason was gone. Their eyes both remained transfixed on the gate where the corpses lay motionless; continuing along their paths of decomposition and decay. There were no more words to say or ideas to discuss about Mason's decision. They had all been brought up and they had all been shot down or cursed away stubbornly. Arguments with a desperate man in a burning world yielded little in regards to results; especially with someone like Mason. They both looked up as they heard his quick steps and he appeared in Tyler's window. He handed in the bottle of whiskey and nodded.

"That's it fellow's. Stay frosty out there."

Tyler looked at him sternly and he scowled; pointing an accusing finger right in Mason's face. "You watch your fucking back asshole."

"Yeah," Mason smirked. "I'll get the gate."

"Son of a bitch." Aaron muttered. It was all happening now. For whatever it was worth.

Mason pulled open the gate and watched glumly as the LMV rolled through. He got a glimpse of both Tyler and Aaron as they passed him and the dirt kicked up as the wheels spun and it tore off down the road.

"Hm," Mason grunted and he leaned against the gate door, "freedom feels like shit." He tor his eyes away from the LMV and looked over the compound grounds. It was beautifully still and seemingly undisturbed; a cleaned up, all-natural lie. Mason et a sigh grumble out of his lungs and he shook his head. Now it was time to get down to business.

Mason locked the gate and scowled when he saw a few more wandering corpses headed down the road toward him. He walked back over to the shop and opened the passengers side door. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes off of the dash and stuck one in his mouth. He didn't have a lighter or a pack of matches anywhere. His lighter was in his jeans in one of the trailers. He'd just have to suck on the damn thing like a lollipop until he came up with something more convenient. He slammed the door and walked around the front of he car; glancing at the puddles of blood that had dried beneath the "Power Take-Off." He grumbled curse under his breath and walked to the back wall where the tool chests were located and cracked his knuckles.

"Ain't she sweet?" Mason picked up a large, dark,blued revolver ad cocked the hammer back. It was a Ruger Super Red Hawk chambered in .454 Casull. It was a beast of a pistol much larger than anything he'd ever want to pack with him. It was just lying around here though and there wasn't much ammo for it; maybe 13 cartridges. He might as well see what that type of built did to the corpses. After all, there wasn't a shortage of them. He sighed ad looked over his shoulder. He was truly alone now. A disgusting emptiness had begun to overwhelm him. It was different than before. When he was on the road with Aaron and Tyler, the emptiness was a compilation of sorrow and the knowledge that his family was likely gone. But then, he'd had companionship and support. Now, the undeniable truth the lingered in the existence of complete, desolate loneliness was creeping through him. There was no way to fight it. He took a deep breath and bent over. He felt like he was going to vomit.

"Fuck,." Mason spat and straightened up. He would get used to it. The human mind would adapt to anything, no matter how awful and turmoil-ridden. It was all survivable. He would just have to pretend he was the only man on earth. That way, he wouldn't feel the constant longing to leave and join the rest of surviving America within the controlling confines of the Government-run green-zone.

Mason stuck the Super Red Hawk in his belt and moved along down the line of things he'd collected from the weapons trailer through-out the night. There was a break-open, single-barrel, ten-gauge shotgun with less than ten rounds of ammunition and an 8mm Mauser. He grabbed each in one hand and spun around; headed toward the door.

"You guys must run when no one's looking." Mason spat as he approached the front gate. Thee were six corpses with more coming varying distances. He leaned the Mauser against the fence and loaded a round into the 10-gauge shotgun. "How about a little Buckshot, huh?" Mason grinned at a very young-looking female corpse and locked the barrel shut. He aimed the shotgun at her chest and cocked back the hammer. "What's that? You don't think it's big enough?" Mason's eyes bugged and he let out a half-insane cackle. "Well you ain't seen nothing this big in your sweet years, honey!" He pulled the trigger and the recoil punched against his shoulder hard. It hit her harder, though. The buckshot decimated her chest with a ragged hole nearly the size of a volley-ball. She slammed into the dirt hard and for a moment, Mason thought she was going to get up. Her arms moved; but she just laid there; still moaning in desperation.

"Huh, how about that, Uncle Joe!" Mason looked at a male corpse dressed in cliche' farmers garb; flannels and all. He tipped the corpse's hat off of its head and laughed a wheezy laugh and it moaned in rage. "You like that fucking hat, huh?" Mason loaded another round into the shotgun and locked the barrel shut. "Well hows about a little of this?" He pointed the barrel downward and pulled the trigger. The shotgun recoiled and the corpse's leg separated half-way up its thigh. The rest of it fell forward and slammed onto its face.

"You need more calcium in your diet- a little less dead-cock." Mason loaded another round and pointed it at the back of the corpse's head. It reached through the gate at his feet and he clenched his teeth. The gun barked its deep, deep bark and the corpse's head exploded entirely; throwing a chunky mess in every direction. "Like a fucking geyser." Mason spat and threw the shotgun to the side. He drew the Red Hawk and cocked back the hammer as he raised it.

"You want some moooooore?" Mason screamed with his eyes bulding from his head and his veins nearly bursting from his neck. He pulled the trigger rapidly three times and the bullets frm the high velocity magnum cartridge ripped into the chest of a corpse standing three feet ahead of him. Goo erupted from its back and fragments of bone exploded through its skin and it slammed into the ground. He pivoted and fired two more rounds into another; first blowing a massive hole through its lungs, then severing its spine completely. He turned to another and looked down the sights steadily. "Stare into it." He said calmly; the sights dead center on the corpse's forehead, "Stare right the fuck into it YOU FUCK!" He squeezed the trigger and the top half of its head turned into a blackish liquid and spattered onto the ground behind it. It hit the dirt and and he began to tremble as he reloaded. He let out a very slow, deep breath and looked over the gun. It did its job well... much better than the .45 auto, or the 9mm naturally. He squeezed the grip in his hand. He'd save the last eight round for when he really needed it. After all, it could come in handy. For now, play-time was over. He needed to pack up and extract. It duties to God and Country were just about to begin.

Mason moved quickly back to the Shop and finished loading the Chevelle his final choices of primary and secondary weaponry. He'd picked a Yugoslavian AKM with eleven magazines and an under-folding stock as a primary due to the vast amount of ammo that was lying around for it. He put a commie-standard tin of 1200 rounds for it in the back. As a backup primary, he chose a Smith and Wesson M&P 15, but replaced the upper assembly with a flat-top 11.5" barrel Commando upper with an Eotech mounted on the rail and flip-up B.U.I.S. (Back Up Iron Sights). There were more than thirty mags, but he only took twelve, he could never carry thirty on him at once. Along with the Commando upper, he found a 6.8 S.P.C. upper with a 16 inch barrel and a Leupold VX-II 3-9x40mm scope mounted on top. There was only one magazine for it in the entire trailer, but that was ok because there was only one box of ammunition for it and that wasn't something he was just going to run across when he was out and about. For good measure, he took the CZ .22 Caliber Bolt action rifle he'd been shooting earlier with him. There was plenty off .22 caliber ammunition on the property. It would be nice to have disposable ammo that could likely be found anywhere.

For secondary weapons, he picked a 4506-1, the one they'd had in the LMV that the Church-born militia had taken. It had a total of three mags only, but whatever. It was ridiculously reliable and would feed no matter what. The night-sights were a good plus as well. With that, he stuck with the Beretta 92FS he had been wandering around with. If he came across any military boys they would have spare magazines handy and 9mm Ball was the NATO standard, plus one of the most popular calibers in the country for both plinking and self defense; despite its drawbacks. He had 220 rounds of 9mm of various manufacturers. In addition, he snatched up an old stainless Smith and Wesson model 66 with wooden grips. The rifling in the barrel was slightly worn, but it would just be a backup gun if things went to hell. He'd found thirty-seven rounds of .357 magnum in total. But, being a .357, it could fire .38 caliber rounds as well and he had happily collected a nice little pile of .38 Special of various types from wad-cutters to lead, round-nosed. Approximately 114 of them. He rubbed his nose and ran his hand through his air. There was a colt anaconda in the guard shack still, and he had to go through the basement to look for anymore supplies that could be of use. Only a few more hours and then... the world.

.


	17. Chapter 19: For what it's worth

Chapter 19

For What It's Worth

"That's just the worst thing ever." Aaron said with a shaky voice as he peeled his shirt away from his crusty gun-shot wound. "O-h my God, look at it." There was no puss, but the caked blood looked like rotten mud dried to a dead pig's underbelly.

"I-sh!" Tyler groaned as he glanced at it then tore his eyes away and brought them back to the paved road before them. Ten hours of driving with no hiccups was pretty good. Aaron had only just risen from his slumber and the alcohol had worn off. Unfortunately, he only had a quarter bottle of his bourbon-whiskey left.

"It's going to get infected and I'm am going to be shitting, and puking, and dying for days." Aaron shivered; unable to pull his eyes away. It wasn't a tearing pain anymore, but more of a heated throbbing that pulsed deep inside him. He tipped his head back and grinded his teeth together.

"Don't do that, it's bad for your teeth." Tyler scolded in a motherly tone; not looking away from the LMV's path. Aaron just nodded.

"Ok." Aaron said, as if he didn't know and had just been enlightened: his form of sarcasm.

Tyler didn't respond; there was too much for the eye to see to be concerned with sarcasm or coming up with his own cheeky response. The Highway had become more and more littered with random vehicles; some on the road and some twisted and destroyed in the ditches. There was no abundance of corpses out in the middle of nowhere, but they were around; primarily lurking around the wrecks and wandering out in the fields along the road just far enough away to ensure they were not a collision-hazard. He'd kept the vehicle down around sixty miles-per-hour just in case something popped out from somewhere without warning, but there had been no incidents, and surely no shocking surprises. At least not until now.

"Look at this, look at this." Tyler chirped; his ears picking up as they passed a road sign with _"Tune in to the Big Dogz" _written on it in blaze-orange spray paint.

"Did that say what I thought it said?" Aaron looked over his shoulder as they flew past the sign and he looked at the radio.

"Turn it on." Tyler said seriously. "If there's any radio-station operating in the Red River Valley, then it's them. Well fuck," Tyler shook his head, "You're from Viking. You know that."

"Yeah," Aaron shrugged, "I just hope they aren't playing Breaking Benjamins, and Nickel Back back-to-back. Or, 3 Days Grace and Nickel Back, and then some preachy, up-their-own-ass Greenday."

"Yeah, they do that sometimes, don't they? I like 107.9 better, but that's out of Fargo. I wonder if anything like that is functioning."

"I guess we can find out." Aaron switched on the radio and punched the seek button. In a matter of moments, voices began to chatter through the speakers. They both froze as if stunned by what they had already expected anyway. The voice of Bill Tanner was reading a news bulletin.

"- And yet still no news coming from the U.K, save for the repeat of the Queen's tumble down a flight of stairs during the evacuation of London- You know," he changed the subject; sounding very serious, "I wonder if they had to put her down."

Pat Mars, the other host, laughed heartily. "You know ,I wouldn't be surprised. I think it was the British, after all, who decided that the best thing to do with injured horses was to, to- you know… put 'em down."

"You know, that's- that's just some weird perspective you have about anyone who isn't American. You know? You've got that syndrome. What's it called? Where you fear people from other countries… God, I don't remember what it is, BUT YOU HAVE IT!"

"Ok, ok, but I'm just saying- I mean really, they were the guys who said that you should really "can" a horse if it sprains its ankle or something."

"Yeah, whatever!" Bill Tanner said; his irritation obviously exaggerated. He grumbled something inaudible and switched subjects. "As you- well- everyone knows, there has been a lot of effort put into the cleaning up and stabilizing of Grand Forks after the so called Apocalypse and it only could have been done with the help of characters like our friend Steve-O Johnson and Brandon Lindstrom. As everyone knows, I'm sure since everyone listens to the Big Dogs, we had them on yesterday. They're working with the uh… uh, sweep and clean teams making sure that there have been no houses, or apartments and what-not missed and that there are no willy-nilly dead-people orgies going on and risking the lives of the hard-working people of the Red River Valley. We've got, uh, Steve-O on the line right now. Uh, Hello?"

"Hey." A deep, yet young voice responded.

"Is this Steve-O I'm talking to?" Bill Tanner asked seriously.

"Yep, this is Steve-O."

"You know," Pat Said with a hint of humor in his voice, "you can always tell it's him because he has the deep boisterous voice of a Greek God."

"And he has hair like Ron Burgundy from Anchorman!"

Aaron turned the volume down and raised his eye brows. "I think I just came." He said excitedly and Tyler smirked.

"I had similar feelings." Tyler paused for a few seconds then slammed his fist on the horn and laughed out a wild cackle. "Oh God, I thought it was all going to be bullshit! FUCK YEAH, BABY! O-H, I'M GOING HOME!" He took a deep breath and counted to five. They weren't there yet. There was at least three hours in their trek if nothing went wrong and anything was possible.

"If we get there and it's a recording, I'm going to off myself." Aaron said dully; staring out the window. "Just leave all this shit and get to God."

"Meh," Tyler grumbled, "God already left the states- and Jesus just left Chicago."

"What God?" Aaron said plainly. "I haven't seen much from a God since this whole thing started, much less before."

"I don't like to talk about it." Tyler yawned. "Once I start thinking about it, I freak out. The what-ifs and the infinite possibilities make me panic and suddenly I can't take my mind off of it. You know what I mean? The possibility that you simply experience nothing after you die and you never ever do again. For eternity, you just experience lifeless black and it never changes, period. I can't comprehend it and I can't handle it."

"Yeah, I just figure everyone does it so I might as well face it." Aaron shrugged. "Whatever it is, people have done it long before me."

"Yeah, better not to ponder over, though…" Tyler trailed off. No matter what anyone said, he really didn't want to talk about it. He didn't need the creepy crawly feelings. The idea of what death could feel like as it took over your existence was bad enough. Knowing it could carry on past the end of time made it multitudes worse.

As the LMV flew over the paved highway, a steady silence fell over the two young men. What was left to talk about? Reality had become a stale drag that neither of them really felt like recounting. It was funny, though, how fantasy from the before time was now nothing of interest. Money was a bad joke, fast cars were useless, fame was a pipe-dream. Now the desire to go to work, go to school, deal with bills and spend time with family had become more valuable than any rare gem or pot of gold. But now those desires were a pipe dream as well and wishing for it was as useful as wishing to go back in time.

Aaron stared at the passing wrecks and abandoned vehicles as they flew by. He wasn't focusing on anything particular, just his random thoughts that were going through his head as quickly as the road was passing beneath him. He was having trouble sticking to one particular thing; other than the impending feeling of doom hovering over his shoulder constantly. It had to be the same with anyone else who was still alive; save for the ignorant, or simple minded like a Paris-Hiltonesque moron who couldn't mumble out anything more complicated than "that's hot."

Aaron smirked and leaned his head back. He'd met a lot of morons in his time- especially working at "Hunters Outlet." It seemed in every hobby, especially when you got seriously into it, you would meet an ever-growing number of hilly-billy retards intent on tainting your visions of beauty. He wrinkled his eye brows. There were plenty of morons waiting in the green-zone, they were like cock-roaches; always surviving and carrying on their irritating, miserable existence into the once bright future. The proof was in every Wal-Mart opening. Once the Wal-Mart opened, suddenly a whole bunch of weirdos showed up. Like guys who wore tie-dye, Obama shirts. Two of the worst creations ever combined. He took a swig from his bottle of whiskey and cringed. He didn't like the stuff before and now was no different. The only thing keeping him from gagging was knowing it could possibly dull the feeling of dagger-like teeth digging into his abdomen and shredding up his insides.

"You okay?" Tyler asked; worried. He looked at Aaron's wound again and wrinkled his eye brows. "Is that alcohol doing a fucking thing?" Tyler hadn't taken a bullet yet. Mason and Aaron both had. He felt a little cheap knowing both of his now best friends were pushing on with ragged holes in them and he was complaining about having a swollen lip.

"I don't think so, man." Aaron shook his head. He looked very gray, but, as usual, he had a lot of spirit. "It tastes like a corpse farted in my mouth." Aaron leaned back and took a deep breath. The alcohol was dehydrating him, he knew that, but why was the pain getting worse? He looked down at the wound again and he shuttered. Infection probably. And that would be the end of him.

"We're going to have to stop." Tyler shook his head; looking for road signs. "You need pain pills… or something."

"Tetanus." Aaron grumbled. "I need a tetanus shot- that's common for treating gunshot wounds I guess. Maybe some Cephalexin or something."

"What, are you the fucking doctor now?" Tyler wrinkled his eye brows; slightly humored. "Sounds like you should have been the one treating the wounds and not Mason."

"No, no," Aaron shook his head. "When you like guns a lot, it's common for Apocalypse to be a fun topic of discussion. I always wanted to know the best ways to survive other than having a pump-action shotgun. Cephalexin is commonly used for post operation infections so it should work good for this."

"So we should be able to find it in a Pharmacy?" Tyler looked at Aaron and Aaron shrugged. Tyler shook his head and smiled. "Perfect. Keep an eye out for road signs."

"I don't know if we should be getting of the highway at all." Aaron gasped. "Fucking aye this hurts." He shook his head. "Not when I'm like this. I can't even walk I don't think."

"Just stay in the truck." Tyler shrugged; trying not to let the idea of being alone in a dark, infested building made his adrenaline shoot through the roof. "You'll be ok in here and I'll be ok with the shotgun and a Glock."

"Yeah, take the Stag Arms AR too, though. You might need some auto-fire." Aaron picked up the H&K P30 off of the floor. "There's plenty of pistol ammo in the car. I should be able to keep them at bay."

"We're not even shooting at anything yet." Tyler chuckled; staring at the road. "Maybe there won't even be any dead people. Maybe it will all be abandoned. We might be lucky."

"Lucky!" Aaron spat and laughed. "What's that?" He sighed and shook his head. "If there's one thing we don't have, it's luck."

"Wait now," Tyler's eyes focused on a green sign and he tapped his fingers on the steering-wheel, "it looks like we've got a winner." He tapped the brake and read the sign as it flew passed them. "Ada, Minnesota. I don't think I've ever been there before."

"I've been there." Aaron nodded. "I didn't stick around or anything- just passed through. It's a nice little town, nice school and all. I'm not real pat on where everything's located, though. There's probably at least one pharmacy on Main Street."

"Oh, we're on 200." Tyler said as he glanced at another sign; not paying much attention to Aaron's rant. He'd taken so many off-hand turns while trying to keep a straight line to Grand Forks that he'd almost gotten lost. Now he knew exactly where he was again. Finally. "We're coming in from the east. Hope there's not a huge welcoming party."

"Let 'em come." Aaron cocked back the hammer on the P30 and looked into the back of the LMV for the Stag Arms AR15. "More than a few hours without taking a shot at something that deserves it makes me a saaaaad panda." He chuckled and grunted when pain from his wound shot through him.

"Well we're going to come straight through town here…" Tyler looked at Aaron's wound again and surveyed the road ahead. There weren't a whole lot of vehicles stalled or abandoned on the road. Hopefully, most everyone had taken off toward the green zone. Yet, the dead were present. They were scattered for the most part; here and there off-road out in the fields. Not much of a problem as long as he and Aaron were quick. Things always got complicated, though. Always.

Tyler kept the LMV at a constant 50 miles per hour for another two miles before the outskirts of town became visible. He'd never realized how handy the flatness of the Minnesota landscape was until now. He could see threats long before they were a certain problem. Now was no exception. He could see vehicles stopped in less-than-uniform fashion at the edge of city limits. He couldn't pick out human silhouettes yet, but that would be dealt with when necessary.

"You want to grab the wheel for a sec?" Tyler grumbled and he turned and reached into the back as Aaron took control of the vehicle. He came back to the front with the Benelli and handed it to Aaron. Tyler took back control of the wheel and sighed "Just make sure her belly is full."

"She's good." Aaron nodded after checking the tube and he propped it against his seat. "Just grab the Stag when we stop."

"Nah, don't worry about it, dude." Tyler squinted and his nostrils flared when he saw the walking-dead appearing in the distance. They were just like cattle herded together in large groups as if they knew they were more dangerous en masse. "I don't want to be dealing with two long-guns while going down isles or hallways. It's too much shit." He glanced into the back, but brought his eyes back to the road instantly. "Shit, did we get our tac-vests back? I didn't even remember to ask Mason about them."

Aaron turned to the back with a severe grimace on his face and nodded. "Oh yeah, they're back there- holsters and pistol belts attached and all. They're behind your seat."

"Ok." Tyler slowed the LMV and pulled it to the side of the road. He looked at Aaron and raised his eye brows as he shifted into "park." And popped his door open. "Better get ready while it's quiet."

"Yeah," Aaron grunted, "no need to get caught with our pants down."

Tyler walked to the back of the LMV and popped the rear hatch. He felt dumb. Why hadn't he gone through the weapons trailer personally? He knew the risks they faced on the road were as real as ever, regardless of how close they were to their destination. He also knew just how persistent a mass of corpses could be when they were all bound up in a tight group. He should have insisted having the M60 Mason used in the church, or the M240 from the Humvee if it were in working order. He sighed, disconcerted, and reached into the back for his tac-vest. He slipped it on, buckled the pistol-belt, and zipped it up. There were fully-loaded Glock 17 magazines in the mag-holster on the left side of the belt and the Glock 17 holster was waiting to receive its master. He grabbed the Glock out of the back and slipped it in. Now what?

Tyler looked around for a moment and nodded with a hesitant smirk. The Shotgun bandoleer was full now. Fifty-four rounds were ready to be loaded. He grabbed it and slipped it over his shoulder and around his neck. That would be all for now.

Tyler climbed back into the LMV and slammed the door. He looked at Aaron. "Ready to rock."

"I think I'm more ready to Jazz than I am to rock." Aaron shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe ready to symphony. I don't think I can rock right now, though."

"Just jazz it up." Tyler laughed. "Just don't start hip-hopping. That'll probably get us both killed."

"Ok, I won't do that." Aaron assured him as the LMV began to move again. "If I start old-school rapping, though you can't get mad."

"Please, spare me." Tyler grunted. "I don't want to have to put you down."

"Ok, I'll keep it to myself."

Tyler brought the LMV around the Police barricade at city limits very carefully; glancing at the cemetery on the left side of the road as they came in. That's where all these bodies belonged. Aaron shot out the window as they passed a cluster of corpses but none fell. The lackluster result was a little clumpy blood and some louder moaning.

"Fuck them, keep an eye out for a Pharmacy." Tyler kept the LMV at around 30 miles per hour. Enough to run down anything effectively and not worry about the shuttering of the vehicle or a lack of control. He drove head onto into a feeble looking old woman in a night gown and grunted in delight when she completely crunched over the hood and began riding along with them; staring at Tyler's face and reaching her one unbroken arm at him.

"I'm not seeing anything." Aaron said uncomfortably as he looked at the old lady. She had been someone's grandma. Needless to say, it was sad.

"I'll turn at this intersection up here. Maybe that's Main Street." Tyler rolled to a stop at the intersection and Aaron let out another string of rapid fire as a few corpses wandered too close to the vehicle. One dropped with a shot to the left eye and another shuttered and fell with an off-point shot to the upper left part of its forehead. Its eyes popped wide open as its brain functions stopped and it fell on its face.

"Ok, yeah, this is… East Main Street." Tyler wrinkled his eye brows as he turned onto it. "What the fuck is that? _East _Main street. Does that mean there's another main street?"

"I couldn't tell you, man." Aaron shook his head. "I'm having a little trouble thinking at all right now. I only know one thing."

"What's that?" Tyler glanced at him, then began looking at the business and buildings lining the road again.

"This P30 is seriously orgasmic."

"Would you watch the damn buildings, please?" Tyler shook his head. "Fucking aye."

"Jesus, even here they're everywhere." Aaron grumbled as he looked at building and corpses alike. They were… odd to watch. So much like people. They were, in a matter of speaking, but not perfected. Then again, maybe they were perfect? No in-fighting, no fear, no difference in opinion on politics or right. But they seemed to be only driven by their will to feed. That didn't sound like a vacation.

Tyler sped up and rolled over a couple of slow movers that wandered into the street. They were crushed and mangled under the LMV's massive weight and Tyler tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. This was horseshit. What he needed was a phone-book.

"Think I should stop and find a phone-book?"

"You really want to play the cat and mouse game already?" Aaron looked at him with a raised eye brow. "Everything's going to be dark."

"Fuck it. I'm not driving around this entire fucking city. Too much shit could happen."

"Too much shit could happen if you stop somewhere random." Aaron shook his head.

"Ok, there's the Liquor store." Tyler looked to his left and pointed. "I'm going in. Just keep them away from the door."

"Jesus." Aaron grumbled.

Tyler rolled the LMV onto the sidewalk and up to the door. He drove in so close that he'd have to climb over the hood to get inside. He'd thought it through, though. He turned on the head-lights before grabbing the shotgun and swinging his door open. Now he'd be able to see.

Before Tyler's feet hit the pavement, Aaron was popping off shots with the P30 9mm. Tyler's adrenaline shot through the roof and he shouldered the shotgun; looking through the ghost-ring sights. Three slow-movers were approaching from the south at about fifteen yards. He squeezed the trigger once and dropped the closest one. Without much of a pause he blew a ragged hole in the head of the second. And it teetered sideways and slammed onto its shoulder motionless. The third corpse stepped over the second and continued on its way; unhindered by the fact that it would surely be executed at near point-blank range.

"Fucking ridiculous fucks." Tyler spat and slung the shotgun. He drew the Glock from its holster and aimed down the sights; placing the front sight carefully on the corpse's face. "Budda bing budda boom." Tyler whispered and squeezed. The corpse's face caved in and it fell forward onto the pavement. "No sleep for Ada." Tyler said quickly and turned around. He jumped onto the LMV's hood and climbed into the nook that lead into the Liquor-Store's door. He unslung the Benelli shotgun and jabbed the barrel at the glass door. It shattered and he jumped back as a corpse lunged at him and forced him back against the vehicle. It grabbed onto his shoulders and leaned in to bite but Tyler grabbed it under the throat and forced its head back.

"Aaron, Aaron!" Tyler roared. "Get this fucker off of me!"

"I'm on it!" Aaron was already leaning out the window getting ready to aim when Tyler spotted another one coming from inside.

"Fuck this one, fuck this one!" Tyler chanted in horror. "Get that other fucker! Get him, get him!"

Aaro readjusted his aim and fired a well-placed round off 124 grain Nato Ball into the right upper cheek of the corpse inside the store. It fell backward and Aaron again brought his sights to the face of the corpse fighting with Tyler.

"I can't shoot, I can't shoot." Aaron said loud and nervously. "You're moving too God Damn much!"

"Fuuck youuuuu!" Tyler roared and thrust all of his arm strength forward; pinning the corpse against the brick outer wall of the building. He put all of his weight forward against it and drew the Glock with his right hand. He put the barrel under the corpse's chin and gritted his teeth together. "Eat it!" He blew the contents of its skull through the top of its head and let it fall to the right onto the pavement.

"Come on, man!" Aaron yelled with pain very evident in his voice. "We got more coming and I'm not going to be able to stop them all."

"I'm moving!" Tyler barked and charged in through the door. He scanned the open room and walked forward quickly. All he had to do was find a phone. The phone-book would have to be near-by. "Thirty seconds, thirty seconds." Tyler said out loud. He ran up to the counter and stepped behind it. Everything had been knocked onto the floor. Broken glass was everywhere. It looked like a lot of people had come in looking for food and drink. There was nothing left. He took another step and stopped. The phone was on the floor. Now where was the phone book? He began opening drawers and cabinets. No luck on the first two. He pulled open a third and grinned. "There you are sweetheart." He grabbed the local phone directory and swung around.

"Fuck!" Tyler felt his bladder almost release as a corpse stepped up to him. He swung the Benelli and it connected with the side of the corpse's head. It stumbled over a tipped-over chair and hit the floor with a thud. "Busy day," Tyler said quickly as he darted toward the door, "gotta go!"

Tyler climbed over the hood and stumbled forward when he landed on his feet. He brought up the Benelli when he saw multiple corpses closing in. "Fuck it." He said passively and spun around. He climbed into the LMV and threw the Phone-Book into Aaron's lap.

"Ah, fuck, watch the abdomen." Aaron said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry." Tyler put the LMV into reverse and hit the accelerator. He slammed into a corpse and threw it to the ground and peeled out down the street.

"Find the damn Pharmacy, would you?" Tyler took a deep breath and let it out shakily. That was quite a ride in the adrenaline department. He wasn't looking forward to doing it again.

"I'm on it." Aaron said as he scanned the directory. Going through over a thousand names wasn't the easiest thing to do. Luckily, the name of the place started with an "A." "I got it." Aaron said excitedly. "Ada Pharmacy and Gifts at 319 West Main Street."

"Ok, I'm turning at fifth Avenue, so I guess we should hit West Main Street in a second huh?" Tyler kept spotted the next intersection sign and nodded. "It's right here." He took a right and narrowly missed a child-corpse that looked no older than six. He swallowed hard and pushed harder on the accelerator. "Two blocks." Tyler said excitedly. "Same as before." He looked in the rear-view at the small corpse and he shivered. He didn't want any more child-blood on his hands. Not after the church. He didn't care if they were dead or not.

"I'll try, but this thing is starting to bleed again after the last shenanigan." Aaron looked at his wound and felt himself become nauseous.

"Well that blows because I have a feeling I'm going to be a little slower this time around." Tyler kept his eyes on his side of the road. The Pharmacy would be another block or so- hopefully easy to spot.

"Not as much action on this street." Aaron rubbed his nose. "My nose has been creating an unorthodox amount of boogers the past couple of days, though. I don't like it."

"Do you have ADHD?" Tyler cocked an eye at Aaron and shook his head. "Keep your head in the game."

"I'm utterly astounded by your impatience." Aaron said in a mock News Broadcaster-type voice.

"Just keep your gun ready." Tyler pointed and took a quick deep breath. "There she is." The Pharmacy stuck out from the rest of the businesses. It had a trendy overhang and was painted a variation of purple that he couldn't quite name. Unfortunately, the doors were nothing like they were at the liquor store. He wouldn't be able to bar them with the truck. There was a gat outside the main windows, though. That would at least slow them down a little on their way inside. He rolled the LMV up on to the sidewalk and parked it. He looked at Aaron with raised eye brows and excited eyes.

"Shoot 'em down, man!" Tyler grabbed the Benelli and hopped out. He glanced over each shoulder as he walked up to the door and propped it open only partially so he could see if there were any surprises waiting inside. He looked for a moment and sighed. Nothing. He swung the door open all the way and walked inside. There was actually light in this place. The glass windows in the front were doing all the work that the LMV had to at the Bar. That would help at least a little bit. The place wasn't very deep either. He could see the back wall easily from the front. Unless something was waiting in an isle, there were no surprises.

Tyler picked up his speed and ran to the back counter. The place had been messed up, but it was nothing like the Liquor store. Everything wasn't torn off of the shelves and lying broken on the floor. Some sections looked ready for sales. Stuffed animals, greeting cards, books, and magazines were on shelves ready to go to the counter and get checked out. It seemed no one was interested in Home and Garden magazine, or current birthdays at the moment.

Tyler hopped the counter in the back and walked up to the first shelf. There were many different medications with ridiculous names he couldn't pronounce.

"Riddle me this…" Tyler whispered; scanning as quickly as he could. He went from left to right, then to the next shelf, and the next shelf; his heart-beat picking up pace with every moment and every gunshot that was no echoing one after the other through the building. "What the fuck!" He burst out impatiently and shook his head. Sweat began to run down his forehead and his eyes went back to the panicked search. He paused and sighed. "Cephalexin… Keflex." Tyler grabbed a handful of them and stuffed them into his jeans quickly. Now for pain. His eyes went back to the shelf and he began searching again.

Five minutes went by and Tyler jumped when Aaron started honking the horn. "Just one fucking minute man." Tyler came to the last shelf and almost immediately he spotted it. "Vicoden." He rolled his eyes and grabbed a massive handful. It was time to go. He turned and jumped over the corner with a grin on his face. It was short lived.

Corpses were coming through the door. And several had climbed the fence outside the windows and were approaching the fragile glass. Tyler brought up the Benelli's barrel and fired. It recoiled and a body fell in the doorway. He switched targets and fired again; dropping a woman wearing a police uniform but no gun. She fell forward; tripping the corpse that was approaching from behind her.

"Fucking aye!" Tyler yelled and emptied the Benelli's tube without thoroughly aiming. Six more shots rang out and three bodies fell before it clicked empty. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you." Tyler chanted, irritated, as he took rounds from his bandoleer and pushed them into the tube. He was shaking profusely and he could hear his heart beating. He pressed the last round into the tube. As he aimed again; stepping back away from the corpses that were now pouring through the doorway, Automatic fire erupted from the LMV.

"Tyler! Tyler!" Aaron roared. "I can't keep them back! There's too many!" Another burst of auto-fire erupted and Tyler let three rounds out of the Shotgun rapidly; pushing two corpses back and slowing the approach of the rest.

"Go out back! GO NOW!" Tyler screamed and spun around. He sprinted to the back and hopped over the counter. There was a wooden door between two of the shelves with "Exit" above it. He grabbed the knob and twisted it; thrusting his weight into it. It didn't budge. He stepped back and aimed at the knob and squeezed the trigger. The shotgun clicked… empty.

"Fuck!" Tyler snarled and dug a round out of the bandoleer as he looked over his shoulder. They were about twenty feet away from him now; locked onto him like heat seeking missiles. He chambered the round and aimed at the knob again. The gun barked and the knob blew off. He kicked the door and came to a complete halt.

More than ten corpses swarmed the door and Tyler jumped back; his heart nearly seizing as he yelped in surprise. He backed away; drawing the Glock and bringing it to bear. This was it, he was stuck. He backed up slowly and looked over his right shoulder. There was a stairway in the corner he hadn't bothered to notice when he'd come in. Of course; the building had a second floor. He darted for it; his heartbeat echoing in his head. He hit the stairs and sprinted up them like he'd never done before. This was his only option. He had to make his stand here. There was more automatic fire coming from the streets now, but out back. Maybe he could get to Aaron through an upstairs window.

Tyler reached the hall at the top of the steps and stopped. There was a door on the left and a door on the right. He grabbed the knob of the door on the right and turned it. It was locked He stepped back and thrust-kicked it right beside the door-knob. It swung open and a corpse lunged at him.

"God damn it!" Tyler yelled; irritated at his repeated mistake and grabbed the corpse forcefully by its right arm and under its left armpit. He swung it to the right with all of his might and threw it down the stairs. It tumbled and slammed into the corpses that were taking there first steps up; knocking them all down into a mangled mess. He stepped through the door and slammed it shut behind him. He grabbed a chair and put it beneath the knob; kicking it hard in the legs to brace it into place. He took a deep breath as he turned to the room again and scanned it: no movement. There were two windows; neither of them barred, looking over the alley. Tyler approached the one furthest away from him and looked out it. His heart dropped. There were more than thirty corpses in the alley that he could see. Aaron was still at the end of the alley; parked in the street. The LMV was too wide to fit in.

"Oh my God." Tyler said hopelessly. "I'm going to die here." He turned to the door as pounds began to sound from it and he stared at it silently. He was so close to home. Why did this have to happen now? Did God honestly not want him to make it? No surprise. God hadn't always been the easiest on him. This was the icing on the cake. The last "hoorah."

Tyler backed away from the window and sat down in a chair. It looked like a break-room or something. There was a couch and a fridge and a table. There was a TV set on a TV stand in the corner. People had probably sat here and watched things unfold the first couple of days. Now they were trying to get back inside to make him a part of their army.

Tyler shook his head and groaned painfully. Why had they even done this? couldn't they have waited a couple hours to get to the green-zone and let the Army or something help Aaron with his wounds? He sighed and shook his head. No, it wasn't Aaron's fault. And who was to say the Army, or anyone for that matter, was in any position to help people medically? It was hard to say. This could have been Aaron's only chance. Maybe now he'd die from an infection that was entirely different than the one that was plaguing the world with flesh hungry, ape-minded corpses. It was game over for himself either way. He couldn't get to the LMV. There were too many of them and more were undoubtedly on the way. All he had to do was wait for them to bust down the door.

More automatic fire erupted, but it wasn't from the back of the building. Tyler got up and looked out the window. Aaron was shooting semi-auto with the P30 from the window and looking over his shoulder every moment or so. The automatic fire continued. It was a deeper thud than that of the Stag Arms AR-15. It was something bigger.

Tyler stepped back and began reloading the Benelli. This could be really good, or really bad. There were countless people with bad intentions roaming the American wasteland. Whoever was shooting could just as well kill him and Aaron as quickly as they destroyed any corpses. If that's what they wanted, though then they would get a serious fight. It was one thing to give up when surrounded by hundreds of dead cannibals, but another to shoot it out with an enemy with numbers not as numerically superior.

Tyler returned to the window and looked out. Aaron wasn't firing. He was leaning out the window of the LMV looking behind him. There were over a dozen dead bodies lying by the vehicle and what came next made his heart beat even harder than before, but for a different reason.

Several soldiers ran up to Aaron's vehicle and Tyler watched as Aaron pointed to the Pharmacy and continued to talk. Tyler yanked open the window and screamed.

"Right here, right here! I'm right here!" Tyler waved his arms through the window and 5 soldiers turned towards him. They all aimed and began firing rapidly into the corpses that were in the alley below him; making their way back out into the street. One by one, bodies fell with head-shots left and right and immobilizing shots to the spine, neck, and legs.

As the number began to drop, the door into Tyler's little break-room broke open and a mass of corpses stepped swarmed in. Tyler didn't hesitate. He jumped. He hit the ground hard and rolled to the side; ending up on his back right by the back entrance to the building. A corpse stepped out and he double-tapped it to the chest; ending its march forward. He climbed to his feet and sprinted forward; wincing as bullets flew past him into more oncoming threats. He reached the LMV and slammed into it; panting as he was slapped on the back by more than one guy with encouraging remarks and laughs.

"Did you get lost?" Aaron said loudly, then laughed; making eye contact with a soldier that had a huge grin on his face.

"Hold on, hold on." Tyler panted; short of breath. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of Vicoden. He handed it to Aaron and swallowed hard. "And fuck you."

"Wally, get over here with that torch." A soldier said into his radio and Tyler looked at him curiously. "I want you to smoke these motherfuckers. Burn it all."

Tyler looked past the soldier with the radio and from around the corner at the end of the block a soldier wearing sunglasses with a fuel tank on his back appeared. He jogged up to the LMV and stepped past everyone with a smile on his face.

"Take a step back guys, this shit's going to get hot." The soldier lifted the nozzle of the flame-thrower and squeezed the trigger; throwing a massive, liquid-like flame down the alley toward the corpses. The fire engulfed their bodies entirely; eating away their clothing and flesh in an instant and exposing their muscles and skeletal structures. After a few moments, they began to fall; the fire still eating them down to nothing.

Tyler looked around and his stomach became uneasy. There were still uncountable numbers of corpses approaching from everywhere. He didn't want to fight anymore, not after that. It was just too much.

"Alright," The soldier who looked to be in command turned to his men. "Jacobs, Taylor, Berg, Latewski- get in the truck. It's straight back to command; no bullshit." The men all responded with a resounding "YES SIR!" And they turned to the truck. The commander looked at Aaron and Tyler and smiled. "You boys want to go for a ride in my bird?"

"Oh fuck yeah." Tyler sighed. He looked at Aaron and nodded with a seriously look on his face. They made it. Now all that could go wrong was a helicopter crash. Things couldn't be much more perfect. Now the answers could come… and that was scarier than anything else.

_Sorry for the wait. I've been working and going to school and its nearly killing me. I liked this chapter though. Writing about Aaron and Tyler made things run a little smoother with one less guy. Don't worry, though. We'll check up on Mason soon. I just have to throw in another chapter about the green-zone and do A LOT of research. Guess I'm going to have to drive around Grand Forks and figure this out._


	18. Chapter 20: Passed due

**Chapter 24**

**Passed Due**

"**How bad is it!" Aaron moaned loudly from his hospital bed as a group of nurses and a doctor looked him over.**

"**It's not so bad." The doctor said; cleaning the wound roughly before he started on the stitches. "It hurts worse than it is. Just stay still."**

"**Easy for you to say!"**

"**Can I get some morphine in here?" The doctor looked at a nurse then back at Aaron. "Your kidney was ruptured and needs to be removed. There's nothing I can do to save it." He took a deep breath and shrugged. "And no one's really worried about paperwork or money right now, so we're just going to get you into surgery as soon as there is a gap in the schedule- maybe five or six hours. Until then, we'll have you juiced so you don't feel a thing." He winked at Aaron and Aaron let his head fall back against his pillow. Time for some needed sleep and some-**

"**Oh, and we'll need to have you fasting before surgery, so no intake of food or drink until you're done."**

**Aaron frowned. He was just going to ask for something to eat. Like everyone kept saying: Everything is always so fucking complicated.**

**It wasn't until they landed that Tyler discovered how they'd been noticed by the military. He and Aaron had gotten lucky. Satellite imagery had noticed them during a random assessment of corpse numbers in the immediate area of the green-zone. It would have been several hours before a rescue-team had gotten to them if a patrol that had just left a compromised post hadn't been coming from the south-east and traveling almost in their direct path. Now he was standing in a tent staring at a young soldier who was smoking a fat, cheap cigar.**

"**We've got seven guns, twelve gallons of gasoline, over 300 rounds of assorted ammunition, an assortment of food items, and one Military vehicle checked in under your name." The soldier looked up from his computer as a gust of wind threw dust up in his tent and he sighed. He looked at Tyler and raised his eye brows; bored. "You're weapons will be confiscated and added to the Security Force's armament, along with your vehicle. Your food will be added to the distribution center's storage catalogue and you will receive points that can be redeemed at any bank in town. **

"**One point is the equivalent of one dollar. Points can be broken down into quarters, but no less. Everything is electronic. Once you go through the registration process, you will be given an I.D. card that pretty much looks like a North Dakota Drivers license. It is with your card that you buy food, clothing, medical supplies, or leisure items. Points are automatically docked from your point-credit account much like a debit or credit-card. In addition, once you are registered, your name will be fully available to the public on a net-based computer-list so friends, or family can find your name if they arrive at a later date. Any questions?"**

**Tyler stared at the soldier and his heart beat began to raise. He didn't know what to say. "uh," Tyler stuttered; looking around the tent; dumbfounded. "Wha- where do I register and where do I find a computer with this list on it?" He felt like turning and running. He just wanted to find a damn computer so he could find his family and live a long, peaceful life with them.**

"**Inside the airport there is a registration station. They will help you locate friends and loved ones while you are completing the registration process." The soldier spoke like a robot. He looked tired and irritated. Tyler didn't blame him. He'd probably been doing this non-stop since the Green-Zone was established. "Anything else?"**

"**No." Tyler shook his head. He pointed over his shoulder. "I'm going to… go do that." He began turning, but stopped.**

"**Oh, how much did I get for points for all of my equipment?"**

**The soldier looked at his computer for a moment and wrinkled his nose. "Sixteen hundred points split equally between you and Aaron Riesen."**

"**Ok," Tyler nodded, "Thank you." **

**As Tyler walked along the grass toward the Airport terminal his eyes danced around wildly; observing all the people. There weren't thousands, but maybe close to 150 in lines at different tents or headed in the same direction as him. They weren't what the imagination depicted: tattered and torn, bloodied and beaten. They looked like him: tired and scared. Now every man had been to war and his face showed it.**

**Tyler took a deep breath and stared at his feet as he marched on. Everything had changed. There was no existence of a normal life. The air had even changed. The sky had turned a permanent gray and the odor of smoke and burnt gun-powder lingered like the smell of a refrigerator that had been turned off for 2 weeks with the food still left inside. He looked up as two Helicopters came in low over him. Now he knew what Iraq had been like, what Viet Nam had been like. The constant pain and worry. It was no game and no sort of cheap entertainment. It was pure hell and no person involved would be permitted to forget it.**

**Tyler reached the terminal doors and pulled them open. When he stepped in, he was taken aback. The Airport Terminal was immaculately clean. It looked… like any average Air Port in the entire country that he'd ever been to. All systems were running and people were actually smiling. He felt his heart beat increase and his adrenaline began to pick up. It wasn't the bad adrenaline either. It was the kind you got when you were cruising down the interstate and 105 miles per hour. It was the kind you got when you knew you were going to get lucky tonight and you couldn't do anything to fuck it up. He began to tremble and he clenched his teeth; trying not to grin. He looked to his left and stared at two cops that were talking with smirks plain in their faces. This was home and what home was supposed to be. **

**Tyler turned his attention back to the terminal. Where were the registration stations? He just looked for the nearest line and shook his head; feeling stupid. Registration had been set up where you usually got your tickets. He walked up to the shortest line and tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently. He wrinkled his nose and looked at his pants as he felt the griminess. He raised his eye brows in surprise and looked around; embarrassed. **

**Tyler's pants were stained with blood, as was his shirt. He hadn't bothered to notice before. Too much had been going on and too many emotions had been going through his head. It was like being a teenage boy with too many hormones and an excess of teenage girls sprouting breasts. The strange experience of consistent survival against horrendous odds didn't leave space in the mind for fashion statements or the desire for them. He'd been bent on one thing: survival. Anyone else was the same way. He looked around and grunted quietly. No one else was as battered-looking as he was. Most of them had probably been in safe houses, or buildings that had been fortified with brick, mortar, and plate-steel. All he could do was wonder how many people these survivors had been forced to turn away in their fight to make it until either the end, or until help arrived.**

**Tyler waited in line for twenty more minutes before it finally came to his turn. He wasn't sure what to say. The woman in ACU's behind the counter guided him instantly.**

"**Name and Social Security number?" The female soldier behind the counter asked politely with a tired smile. Tyler responded nervously and she typed it into her computer. **

"**Ok," She nodded as she read something on her screen. "You're current credit-balance is 800 points and your housing registration is with your father, Paul Thompson, your mother, Debra Thompson, and your sister, Brittany Thompson. Your work orders will come in the mail within two days. Any questions?"**

**Tyler was shocked. He couldn't say anything. All he could do was stare at her with his lower lip trembling. Fireworks were going off in his brain but he didn't have the energy or the know-how to express the feelings. He'd forgotten what pure joy was. The soldier understood. She printed off his records and handed them to him.**

"**Have a good day, sir. And congratulations on reaching the green-zone and your family. I'm sure it's been long awaited. I'll have them notified of your status immediately."**

"**No, no." Tyler shook his head firmly. "I want to do it myself."**

"**I understand." The soldier smiled again. "Good luck."**

**Tyler left the building quickly; not running but walking briskly. He didn't really need to look at where he was going. He knew Grand Forks very well and finding the address would be a breeze. He just wished he had a ride since the Air Port was outside of town about a mile. He walked along the sturdy-looking fence that had been put up along the road. There was another one on the opposite side of the ditch. There were bodies here and there along with craters of varying sizes scattered randomly on the outside. The fight had clearly been here too, but it looked like it had been effectively mopped up. **

**Tyler's heart-beat increased when he saw silhouettes about two-hundred yards away out in the middle of what once had been some farmer's field. He kept his eyes locked on them as he took one step at a time. Who were you supposed to call if they got up to the fence and started making a mess of it? What if they got in? There had to be patrols going up and down the perimeter. That would be the only thing that made sense. He brought his eyes to the road as he heard an engine approaching and a Humvee in Desert Tan passed him. It stopped one hundred yards ahead of him and a soldier popped up through the turret. He had an M-21 Sniper Rifle that basically consisted of a match-grade M-14. The sniper leaned forward into a comfortable position and after a moment, he fired a round. Tyler watched the empty shell casing eject and bounce wildly off of the Humvee's roof. There was another pause and then the sniper fired again. **

**Tyler looked out into the field and looked at the Humvee happily. The corpses were down in the field; nowhere that Tyler could see now. It was nice not having to be one of the ones shooting. He kept walking; eyeing the Humvee as he got closer and closer. He hoped these guys weren't assholes. It looked like they were just waiting for him. **

**As Tyler approached the Humvee, two soldiers stepped out; looking at him plainly. Tyler stopped by the vehicle and one nodded as he walked up to him. **

"**Hey, have you been registered yet, sir?"**

"**Yep, I just did." Tyler handed the soldier his registration information and the soldier went looked over it; his comrade standing by with his rifle at the low-ready. **

"**Ok," the soldier nodded; handing Tyler the paper-work back. "Where you headed? It kind of nasty to be walking out here because you run into a thousand patrols in the time it takes you to get into town and EVERYONE wants to see your papers. It's like being a God-damned legal alien. We can drop you off at the address, or close by anyway if you'd like."**

"**Yeah, that'd be great." Tyler nodded excitedly. "I'm kind of nervous walking around out here without a gun anyway. I got kind of used to it."**

"**Yeah, hop it." **

**They all turned to the Humvee and Tyler climbed inside. He'd been in one of these before. They weren't all that bad. Just very… familiar. He thought of Liz and swallowed hard. If only they hadn't stopped. He shook that thought away. Now wasn't the time for that. Now was time to focus on his life and to focus on being part of a greater good. The resources would be given to him and he would have to make due. **

"**So you carried a gun up until now, huh?" The soldier asked Tyler from the front seat. "Did you get to use it a lot?"**

"**A little too much." Tyler nodded. "As you can see by my clothing, the run ins were by the dozen. We got lucky, though. We found a truck that had been abandoned in a place called Pembleton in-"**

"**Pembleton!" The soldier spat. "I almost had to go to Pembleton two days ago, but the whole operation went SNAFU on us. The ammo and fuel couldn't be flown in fast enough and we had to call off air-support because it was burning too much Petrol that we can't afford. We ended up extracting all personnel by late last night. We ended up leaving quite a bit of equipment there. It would have been a good, strong operation with a positive outcome if all hadn't turned into a giant ass-reaming. Too many of them, man. They kept coming in waves is what I hear."**

"**How low is the green-zone on fuel?" Tyler asked nervously. "That doesn't sound very nice."**

"**Not low enough for you to start shitting in your trousers. Just enough to start thinking about conservation. It doesn't matter really. There are operations in the planning stages right now to begin dealing with it. The only issue we are concerned about is off-their-rocker militants that are likely to get into firefights with our guys, shoot our birds out of the air, and ambush our convoys. **

"**We've had armed convoys get shot up pretty good already while out on gas-guzzling duty. We send out scouts to find pumps that aren't dry then we send a tanker to fill up and come back. Well we've lost a couple of tankers and we've lost a couple dozen guys and their gear. Those fuckers aren't playing around. We're getting wise to it, though. We've amped up everything from armor to firepower. Never thought we'd have to use TOW missiles inside the States, but they're coming in handy now."**

"**I've had a couple of run-ins with those guys myself." Tyler thought grimly about the church compound and swallowed hard. "Even heavily-armed jackasses can put a serious dent in your plans for the day."**

"**That's no joke." The soldier agreed. "I dealt with them in Iraq and Afghanistan and now here. Its just a difference in opinion and it leads to massive bloodshed. It really blows. At least there aren't any I.E.D.'s here… yet."**

"**No shit." Tyler agreed. That would be a whole new ball-game.**

**Tyler chatted with the soldiers all the way to his registered address. He said goodbye to them and shook a few hands before climbing out and watching them drive off. His eyes switched to the blue, run down house and he took a deep breath. Why was he so nervous? It was like a first date. He looked himself over and grumbled. He didn't feel good about how he looked. It would lead to a lot of questions and a lot of relived guilt. He sighed and walked forward.**

**Tyler knocked on the front door lightly and listened. There was no movement, or sound for a couple minutes, so he checked the door-knob. It turned freely and he opened the door slowly. He listened again as he closed the door quietly behind him. There were several pairs of shoes by the door off of the rug; maybe someone was home, but maybe not. As he took a step forward, he heard a cupboard slam shut and another creak open. He walked confidently out of the entry-way into a big room with a couch and a TV in it. It looked fine and dandy so far, but he could care less about the furnishings. The sound was coming from the doorway in the far right corner of the room. He walked forward and his heart nearly stopped when he stepped into the room and saw his mother putting clean glasses into a cupboard with her back to him.**

"**It ain't bad." Tyler said nervously; his voice nearly breaking as a tear ran down his cheek.**

**His mother spun around and put her hand over her mouth. She stared at him quietly as tears welled up in her eyes. Then she began to scream with excitement. This was it. It was what home was always supposed to be.**


	19. Chapter 21: Float on

Chapter 21

Float On

Blair, California: 6 months later.

**October**

Beneath the beating rays of the sun, a countless horde of undead monsters roamed the city streets. The light wind blew garbage from the life before along the ground at their feet and they moaned with excitement as they heard alien sounds and unknown movement caused by the random inanimate object. They marched on with no desire but that to feed as the sun burned their decaying flesh and their potent stench rose into the air to declare their presence. They were unchallenged in numbers and hardly challenged in force. Their existence plagued the ground they walked on and they knew not of their destruction.

A high pitched "**whiz" **cut through the air and the thinning hair of a corpse puffed into the air followed closely by a clump of gooey brain-matter. The other corpses paid no attention as it fell at their feet. They continued to walk aimlessly with no intentions but to wait and seek hot food. Another **"whiz" **cut through the air and another random corpse fell to the ground with a tiny little hole punched into it's skull.

Mason was in the window of an office-building sitting comfortably in a chair with the gun rested in a window sill. He was staring through a Vortex scope mounted on top of a CZ 455 bolt-action .22 caliber rifle with a make-shift suppressor consisting of PVC-pipe lined with washers protruding off of it. He worked the bolt and re-aimed; looking at the not-so-rotten face of a low-30's female with blond hair. He was shooting blonds today and she was next in line. He grinned slightly and squeezed ever so gently with the tip of his finger as to not influence any side to side movement of the gun. The muzzle-blast popped almost inaudibly and her head recoiled back; her body dropping to the ground and beginning a spasm of energetic twitches.

Mason lowered the rifle and smiled, talking to himself out-loud as he ejected the tiny spent shell-casing and carefully set the gun against the wall. "Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You." He snickered at the reciting of Doctor Seuss and spun his swivel chair around.

Mason sighed and slapped his hands over his knees as he looked over his ruffled nest. It was the third floor of a spendy-looking office building. The act of effectively sealing it off had been a 7-Day process involving sporadic acts of potential suicide. He'd gotten used to those, though. He'd sealed off the main stair-way with 2 soda-machines and a snack-machine and bolted thin plate steel over the doors. He'd opted for more plate steel and a wire welder for the other stairway. Getting out and in had become a minor inconvenience, as he'd had to use a rope ladder the first few days, but he'd done some figuring and eventually bolted a few fire-ladders from some neighboring apartment buildings to the wall outside. The last bit of ladder was made of rope, but that was ok. All he cared about was being able to get off the ground fast. He could take all the time he wanted to get inside once he was out of grabbing-distance.

Mason got out of his chair and walked over to his table that he'd placed smack-dab in the middle of the room. He hadn't eaten since the previous night and his stomach had started to churn to the point that he couldn't ignore it. He sat down at his table and looked over his collection of canned and "just add water" foods. Life had become a repetitive chore of searching houses and apartments for whatever had been left behind. He'd swallowed about as many green-peas and mouthfuls of creamed-corn as anyone could rightfully handle, but every once-in-a-while, he'd come across a can of "spaghetti-o's" or "Chunky" chicken corn-chowder soup. Then he'd have an emotional party where he was the only guest and he'd top off his elaborate meal with some codeine and a liter of whiskey, or a few bottles of wine.

Mason sighed and reached for a bag of potato-flakes. He stood from his chair with them in his hand and walked over to a desk he'd pushed to the far-right corner of the room. There was a gallon-drum of water with a spout sitting on top of it. He opened a drawer and pulled out a kettle and let the water fill it about a quarter of the way. Without much additional thought, he walked back over to the table and set the kettle and the potatoes back down and reached under the table, coming back up with a small propane grill. He set it on the table-top and lit the burners and placed the kettle on the cage.

Mason sat down in a leather office-char and rolled it up to the table. There was a bottle of wild-turkey and a half-bottle of rose-wine sitting on the edge of the table-top. He reached for the wine, hesitated, and grabbed the wild-turkey; turning the chair toward the door leading to the hall to his right. He unscrewed the cap and took a drink; grimacing as he swallowed, but sighing and closing his eyes as the warmth engulfed him. He leaned his head back and took a deep breath.

Mason was on vacation- mentally anyway. He'd decided three days earlier to take a breather and stay in-doors for a while so he could relax. No running and gunning, no sifting through other peoples' garbage in the hopes of finding a can of baked beans, or a box of chocolates. There weren't any chocolates left in this fucking city. He'd been to every shop in town and kicked-in every vending-machine window just to give himself a morale boost. Now he had a surplus of Reese's fast-breaks, and more lightly-salted pretzels than he'd ever cared to eat. He took another swig of the wild-turkey and rolled himself over to the other side of the table.

What Mason wanted was a fucking quarter-pounder with cheese and a double-whopper- anything that was real, fresh meat and wasn't cold half-way through. He grabbed a can of "Monster Assault" and cracked open the top; guzzling half of it down without taking a breath. He set it on the table and leaned back again with his hands behind his head; observing his room thoughtfully. It wasn't bad by any means. He'd gone through the pain of getting a mattress and a bed-stand from a furniture-store up town and pulling it all up to the window piece by piece with a rope. He'd re-covered the walls with posters and banners of different bands and scantily-clad women that he'd picked up here and there at different stores and shops. It felt right in a strange sort of way. The only thing missing to make it actually feel like a calm, warming home was removal of the constant pounding at the stairwell doors.

As his water began to boil, Mason picked up a Browning Buckmark off of the table and walking out into the hall. He paused and looked in both directions. The hallway was littered with everything from desks to computers. He'd thought about keeping a computer to log his daily activities in, but using the fuel for the generators up just for the sake of a little memorabilia wasn't justifiable. He turned left and walked slowly down the hall; glancing at every door as he passed. He felt so… aimless. He was alone, with little to do, and the patience required to sit and stare at a wall wasn't something he had. He was going insane. Today would be his last day of vacation.

Mason walked up to the sealed door and looked closely at his welds. He was by no means a professional, but he'd always been good enough for work on the farm. He studied them for a moment and wrinkled his eye brows thoughtfully. They were completely intact and the door wasn't moving, but he knew that after a long enough period everything would separate and break down and he would just be meat for the wolves. He rubbed his nose and backed up to the wall; still staring at the door as he leaned back against the carpeted paneling. They were moaning at him through the wired-glass; staring into his eyes with desperate, thoughtless aggression. They'd long-since the first day broken the glass, but they weren't strong enough to separate the wire. Even if they had been, they still couldn't penetrate the doorway and any arms that came through the window were fair-game for him.

Mason looked at the Browning Buckmark .22 caliber pistol in his hand in admiration. It had been a lucky find; all things considered. A corpse, of all things, had been carrying it; though he hadn't known when he'd killed it. All he'd seen was a backpack and a backpack often meant supplies. He'd killed the slow-mover with an aluminum baseball bat. One crack to the head hadn't been enough, so after the first blow and its resulting tumble, he'd beaten it until most of its head had become one with the ground below it. A quick review of the bag's contents on the roof of a gas-station had wielded the Buckmark fitted with a Tactical-Solutions sound suppressor, two extra magazines, thirty-two rounds of Aguila .22 caliber ammunition in a box, a half-full magazine for a Glock 22, seven shotgun shells, a snickers bar, and three cans of Sprite.

Mason aimed the Buckmark at the face of a corpse and set the tip of his finger on the trigger. He didn't have much ammo for anything anymore and he felt the pain of pulling the trigger every time he shot something, but that was his duty. In any case, if he got into a pickle he'd break out the AKM. He had shot very little of the ugly, but very effective Soviet rifle since he'd picked it up at the church. He'd developed a bad habit of just hoarding the beast's ammunition in a massive pile just-in-case and it seemed like every time he ran across a weapons cache, there was always a little bit of 7.62x39mm Soviet to be had.

Mason stared at the front sight and squeezed the trigger. The Buckmark hardly chirped, but the corpse froze in place with a tiny little hole in its forehead and it fell out of Mason's view just to be replaced by one of the corpses flooding in behind it. He lowered the gun and without any hesitation, he turned back toward his room and marched quickly back down the hall and through the doorway.

As the water neared boiling, Mason started up the generator that was near the door and walked over to the desk by his bed. He unfolded a portable DVD player and plugged it in, then inserted a disk and set it down. He walked back to the table to tend to his food as the DVD began to play. The Walt- Disney emblem flashed by the screen and the beginning of "Beauty and the Beast" began to play. He smiled as he mixed his potato-flakes with the water and grabbed his bottle of wild-turkey off the table.

Mason drank the wild-turkey bit by bit as he watched the children's movie play. As he fell deeper and deeper into drunkenness his emotions became less and less sensible and he began to sob uncontrollably. He had become adrift; a lost person with nowhere to go and no true goals. He had watched himself slip from a driven, highly motivated killer, to a desolate skeleton of what used to be. But when had the fall began?

Mason tipped his head back and sniffled; trying desperately to halt his tears. He had no right to cry. He was still alive and fighting. There were millions upon millions who weren't. His parents included. He let out a painful cry and turned over on his side. He had hoped and hoped; fighting his pessimism desperately and trying to hush the reality of his situation. But the reality was all that there was.

Mason had arrived in Hewitt, Texas nearly three weeks after his departure from the church. The trip had been less harrowing than he'd expected; though he was well armed and experienced after his week-long trek toward the green-zone and he had learned valuable lessons. No lesson had prepared him for what he'd seen, though. The house he'd grown up in was no more. It had burned at some point and only a skeleton of what it used to be remained. He'd looked over the ruins closely; sifting through them with an animal-like drive to find some clue to the fate of his parents. He'd found more than he'd bargained for.

In the depths of the ashes, Mason had found human remains still partially intact. He couldn't tell who they were for sure, but he could guess. There were five separate skulls. One missing its teeth. That would be his grand-father. The rest, it was hard to tell. To him, teeth were teeth. But there were two female sets of skulls and three male. He had no idea who the third male skull had belonged to but it hadn't mattered. What had mattered was that he'd seen it and now there were no questions remaining. Just a desire to kill everything that was already supposed to be dead. He hadn't left empty-handed, though. In his fathers shop, in the back room, Mason had an old box of things from his bedroom that he'd removed to make room for other useless crap that he'd found more important as a dumbass teenager. Inside was a Spec-1 Mini model Besh-Wedge fighting knife, several CD's that he'd previously thought he'd had enough of, an alarm clock, an old bayonet for a Mauser M48A, some flint, an empty steel .30 caliber ammo box, and a big bag of fire-crackers. He'd taken it all with him; adding it to his collection of useful odds and ends. The Besh-Wedge knife remained on him at all times, even when he was sleeping. A knife was an extremely useful tool under all circumstances. He never wanted to be caught without one.

From his parents' farm, Mason had wandered aimlessly; killing this and that, here and there before making his way into California. Now he'd found a place where he could make progress and effectively support himself. It still rained, and there were still fish in the Ocean. Water and fish were all he needed if he ran completely out of supplies. Though, he hadn't actually taken the time to go fishing yet, he'd hoarded Teriyaki and Soy Sauce like gold. He knew that without butter, those were the only things that were going to make fish actually taste spectacular.

Mason rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at his battery-operated clock. It was 9:30 in the morning. He had twelve hours of sleep before it was time to get something done. He dried his tears and closed his eyes. Time to sleep. A well-rested killer was a more effective killer.

Mason's alarm went off at 10:00p.m. He rubbed his eyes as he yawned and sat up; grunting as he remembered he'd forgotten to turn the generator off. He hadn't wasted too much gas, though. He never filled the thing just in case of getting side-tracked. That was the primary issue with his drinking problem. Once the whiskey went down, his exaggerated emotions always took precedence over his primary goals. He took a deep breath and stood up; looking over the mess he'd left on the counter. He needed to clean that up sometime soon; didn't need it looking like a pig-sty. Tyler wouldn't like that. Mason didn't have time to deal with it right now, though. He had things to do before the sun started to come up again.

Mason walked to the far, right end of the big, perfectly cube-shaped room and opened the closet. He looked over all of his equipment and grabbed his Olive-Drab uniform which was neatly folded neatly on the top shelf and a pair of clean briefs from a new package he'd snagged at a J.C. Penney. He walked over to his table and set it all down on a clear spot before reaching to the far left side of the table and turning the knob on an electric lantern. The light overtook the room and he unbuttoned his pants, pulled them down, and kicked them off. He continued with his briefs and stopped; staring at his penis dully.

"How gross." Mason muttered as he stared at his package just hanging there: A severely flaccid penis that hadn't seen any action in six months. He was no average boy either. The few girls he'd been with had been excited to try it out and had always been happy with the results. Now, it was just a waste of genetics. It was funny how sexual desire could be sidetracked so quickly, but also brought to bear so rapidly that a man hardly knew what hit him. He felt nothing as far as arousal went, though. The idea of masturbation just seemed like a waste of energy and effort. Yet, it never felt like it took a toll on him. He never had wet dreams or random erections. Maybe, under his emotionally dire circumstances, his body had just decided to stop with the desire to reproduce, or creating the natural product to do so. It wouldn't surprise him. Combat and survival wasn't a natural thing for a human to go through. His body was adapting.

Mason put the fatigues on and equipped his chest harness loaded with AK mags. He didn't have enough ammo for anything else to actually feel secure to any level. As awful as it felt, he was going to have to start using his massive cache of 7.62 Soviet ammo. He grabbed the AK out of the closet and checked the chamber. It was loaded just like everything else. Now for his sidearm.

Mason looked through the closet and grabbed his M-9 off of the top shelf. He had nearly 200 rounds of 9mm ball. It was all of mixed manufacturer, but that would do. He'd compiled seven mags for it all together, but he never kept them all loaded or on him at the same time. He was always worried about the springs getting worn out and the gun not feeding properly when he needed it to. He was careful to switch magazines every four weeks just to make sure that didn't happen.

Mason screwed the suppressor onto the Beretta and put it into his leg-holster, then reached back into the closet. He grabbed his only two fragmentation grenades and put them into their pouches on his vest, then slipped on his black knee pads and put on his shooting gloves. That was all, other than his Night Vision Goggles. He grabbed them out of the closet and stared at them; recalling how he'd found them. It had been near Las Vegas. He couldn't remember the name of the small city. He'd stopped at the hospital to look for pain killers to feed his addiction. The entire inside of the building was chalk-full of holes from every caliber the military had on hand: 9mm to .50. After a careful search of every room, he'd come across a room that had been barricaded.

With a little motivation and a crow-bar, Mason had busted his way in only to find six National-Guard soldiers who had committed suicide as a group out of obvious situational-desperation. They'd all had Night-Vision goggles, M16A4's, Beretta's, and a slew of other equipment. Ammo, soldier-to-soldier, had been nearly depleted, though, but Mason had taken the slides and barrels of each M-9 and their spare magazines. He'd also taken two M16A4's. He liked A4's and their 20-inch barrels. In reality, they were just fine to move down halls with and they maximized on the 5.56/.223's velocity. The only downfall was the 3-shot burst limitation. Mason knew auto-fire wasn't really called for under his circumstances, but he liked the option if things got too nuts, or he needed to break contact with an armed group of soulless marauders. That hadn't happened yet, but if it did he knew he could handle himself. He just needed to stay calm.

Mason finished off his load-out with an L.E.D. flashlight, his Besh-Wedge, a Colt Python on the small of his back, a flask of whiskey, and three protein power-bars. His primary objective would require a small package he'd prepared for himself earlier. It was in the hall for peace-of-mind. He walked through the hallway doors with the AK slung over his chest and grabbed the package off the floor by the main basement-doorway. It was a leather shoulder-bag with cargo-pockets. He slung it over his shoulder and went to the window; checking the alley below with his N.V.G.'s on before climbing out. As usual, the retards below had moved out into the street for the most part. They couldn't see him anyway. It was pitch black out without any street lights. They fumbled around like dweebs in the dark. Mason owned the night, and he knew it.

Mason climbed down his awkward ladder as quickly as he could and turned to the closest corpse. It could hear him and it moaned as it lashed out; quickly bringing the attention of the rest that were nearby. He unsheathed his Besh-Wedge and closed in; shooting forward and thrusting the knife toward its face while simultaneously grabbing the back of its head and pulling it toward him. The Besh-Wedge pierced its cranium through its nasal passage and Mason twisted the blade sharply before letting the body fall at his feet. Without looking at his first kill, he drew the M-9 and aimed the sights. He fired a single quick shot into the closest corpse's face, then switched to the next two rapidly. He blew their faces in with two single shots and turned back toward the street before their bodies even fell and moved swiftly forward. He came to the end of the block and peaked out; looking left and right. Corpses were wandering all over the place, though they didn't look to be headed in any particular direction. Mason took a right and weaved between corpses quickly. He knew where he was going, luckily. He could easily recall the days of having no idea what the hell he was doing. Now he could make a set of goals and work to accomplish them; after all, no one was relying on him to do anything in particular.

Mason moved down the street; continuing his evasion of the desperate dead and stopped at the corner of his immediate intersection. He peaked around the corner to the left and wrinkled his nose in disgust. There was an extremely compact group of around thirty corpses standing directly between him and his objective. He turned around and swept his rear area with the N.V.G.'s and brought up the M-9. He shot two corpses that were trailing him by twenty-yards in the face very carefully and turned back to the group. He sighed and looked across the street; scratching his ear nervously. He couldn't fight his way through; that would interfere with his plan.

Mason grunted in disgust and went directly across the street to the corner of the opposite building and scanned his surrounding. Nothing was disgustingly close, so he turned back to the group of 30 and took a deep breath. He let out a whiney cry and immediately moved back to his previous position as the corpses erupted with energy and began moving toward the area where the sound had come from.

Mason waited a few moments, then moved forward again; quickly passing the previously inaccessible area. He looked at his objective with a hesitant smile. It was an H-3 Humvee. He walked up to it calmly and opened the door. As he'd expected, the lights came on and he heard the moans of excitement as he climbed in. Taking a deep breath, he threw his bag on the passenger's seat and put his hand on the ignition. The key was there. He'd spotted it several nights earlier. He turned it to the "on" position, just to activate the power-source and he opened the leather bag. He took out an old mixed-cd and put it into the CD-deck, then turned the volume all the way up. The music to "Dontcha" by the "Pussycat Dolls" began to pour out of the speakers and he turned to the bag again. Quickly, he pulled out a detonator. It was attached to a set of wires which were attached to a claymore mine. In the bag surrounding the mine were wrapped sticks of dynamite. He climbed out of the humvee quickly and slammed the door shut; letting the music play loudly as he moved back into the darkness and back around the corner into another alley. Now it was a waiting game. He just had to keep his head while the assholes accumulated.

Mason removed the magazine from his Beretta and replaced it with a full one while he waited. He peeked around the corner every few seconds, making sure more were approaching. It was just like every time before. They were at the humvee already; trying desperately to break the windows and get to whatever was making a sound they didn't recognize. They were coming from every direction; even walking right by him through the pitch-black. It wasn't time yet, though. They all had to get closer, into a more compact horde.

Mason peeked around the corner one more time and wrinkled his eye brows in frustration. They were still coming up irritatingly slow and with less aggression than he wanted. He watched them for a moment, then looked back to his rear. Several corpses were headed right for him; just trying to get to the sound of the music. He charged the closest one and slammed it into the side of the building on his right. Immediately, he slammed the edge of his Besh-Wedge through its eye socket into its cranium and let it slide to the ground. He immediately went for the next one; going straight into its chest and bringing his head up into its chin. Its head recoiled back and he grabbed it by the chin and the back of the head and twisted it violently against its own body-weight. Its neck crunched and he dropped it to the ground without taking another look at it.

Mason stared at the next corpse standing in his path and turned his head curiously. It was a soldier with his helmet and everything still on. He looked at the corpse's chest harness, knowing it could hold 30-round Stanag magazines, and put the Besh-Wedge back in its sheath. He drew his M-9 and walked up to the corpse; leaving the detonator behind.

"You never earned this." Mason whispered to the corpse as he stepped up to it and raised the M-9. He stuck the end of the suppressor to its forehead and squeezed the trigger. With a little bit of recoil, the corpse's head went back and it fell lifelessly to the ground. He knelt beside the corpse and opened the magazine pouches on its load-bearing vest. He grinned as he pulled out two full M-16 magazines and put them in the cargo pocket on his left leg. He turned back to the edge of the alley, ignoring the other approaching corpses, and ran to the detonator; picking it up and looking around the corner.

Mason observed the number of corpses that had massed around the humvee and his lip trembled in anger. He hated them and their pathetic existence. He pulled his head back into the alley and put his back against the concrete. He held the detonator in his hand and closed his eyes in a relaxed manner. He pushed the detonator button three times.

The massive explosion ripped through Mason's ears and he immediately stepped back out into the street; raising the AK as he picked out targets. There were plenty of corpses still standing, but the mass of them were down on the ground; some of them moving, some of them not. The AK barked as he squeezed the trigger and let a burst out toward the nearest wanderers.

Without much thought, Mason pulled a frag-grenade out of one of his pouches and pulled the pin out with his teeth. He threw it toward the wreck and turned back toward the alley he was hiding in. He fired a six-round burst into a corpse walking quickly up to him as the frag-grenade exploded and quickly switched targets as his first fell and more corpses crumbled to the explosion behind him. He let out a violent stream of fire into a scattered group of slow-movers and pulled the empty magazine out of the AKM; putting it in his pouch and replacing it with another before racking the bolt. He held the trigger again and fought the recoil as more rounds sprayed out of the gun and down the alley; piercing more corpses violently; spraying black goo and fracturing limbs; forcing the random corpses to the ground before him.

Mason switched the AKM to "Semi-Auto" and began picking targets. He shattered several heads rapidly before turning back to the wreck again and pulling out his last frag-grenade. He threw it at the wreck, yet again, and turned to the alley that was directly across the street from him. As he charged toward the alley, the second grenade exploded; throwing more corpses to the ground as they moved toward Mason's position. Without looking back, Mason ran into the alley and about 20 yards from the intersection, he knelt beside the building on his left and picked up a thin wire that was already on the ground and tied it to the pin of a grenade that was wired to a pipe on the wall.

Mason stood and brought up the AKM and fired a round into the face of a corpse that was approaching, and pulled the sights onto another a few yards away. He fired again and its head erupted like a volcano; dropping its body sideways to the asphalt below it. He moved forward in a slow walk; bringing the sights of the AKM into the appropriate targets as he approached. Round after round the gun barked and he dropped the corpses; popping their heads like ruptured watermelons and dropping their rotten bodies to the ground.

When all was clear for at least thirty-yards, Mason spun around and aimed. More corpses were coming down the alley now, one-by-one. He fired as quickly as he could; focusing not only on heads, but center-mass; trying to hit spinal cords and drop them as rapid as possible. As he fired desperately; more and more filled the alley until they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder and he turned around; feeding another fresh magazine into the rifle. He began to walk away and he looked over his shoulder as the corpses tripped the wire.

"That's right, assholes. Keep it coming." Mason muttered; turning around and bringing his attention to the corpses down the alley behind him. He brought up the AKM's barrel again and began firing; throwing more rounds down range than was necessary; hardly wincing as the trip-wire grenade behind him went off. He dropped another two and ran toward their fallen bodies, stopping again not thirty-yards from his previous position and kneeling down.

"Just a little more." Mason said as he dug a detonator out of some rubble and checked its connection. It was readily attached to another claymore-mine. He let the wire out carefully as he stepped away from it quickly and drew his M-9. He looked down the sights and shot a corpse in the mouth. Its head twitched, but it kept coming forward and Mason swore under his breath. He shot another round into it nose-area and moved forward; shooting another in the throat, then in the cheek-bone; finally making it hit the dirt. He approached an abandoned military vehicle and turned his back to it.

This was it. Mason had set this up specifically over five days. The Humvee with the explosives, the tripe-wire, the claymore. He'd blocked off this alley with a hardly-drivable transport truck and several more abandoned cars behind it. They were in his trap now and he was ready for them. Ready to deal detrimental blows to their local numbers.

Mason climbed onto the hood of the truck and raised the detonator. The corpses were massed in front of the claymore. He clicked the detonator three times and he felt his ears ring as the explosion ripped through the corpse bodies and the echo tore through his head. As eight or nine bodies fell to the ground, he turned. The fire ladder of the building in front of him he'd lowered to reach the truck's hood, but before he climbed onto it, he got onto his belly and reached into the truck's cab, feeling on the driver's seat. He felt what he was looking for and grabbed it; holding it up to take a look. It was an H.E. (High Explosive) grenade. With that in hand, he hopped onto the ladder and began climbing.

When Mason reached the fire-escape of the first floor, he turned around and watched the action below. The corpses were coming from both sides of the truck; slamming their fists and clawing at it as they pressed up against it. They knew where he had been, and they wanted at him desperately. Mason clenched the grenade in his palm and took a deep breath.

The truck was not just a random truck. He had taken special care to load it accordingly. He knew what to expect from these dumb-fucks and what he'd expected was thoughtless aggression. They would follow him wherever he went and where he went was the truck and the truck was filled with seven propane tanks, seventeen hand grenades, six pounds of TNT in the back and three pounds of TNT in the cab. His thoughtful hoarding of explosives had paid off just as he'd hoped. Mason pulled the pin out of the H.E. grenade and tossed it from the fire escape into the cab. He watched it disappear into the darkness and he jumped through the window; taking off down the hall with anxious excitement and he ducked into the furthest apartment on his right as he'd planned.

The explosion boomed even louder than Mason expected; causing the building to shutter violently and all of the windows to shatter. With his ears still ringing painfully, Mason stuck his head out into the hall. There was a hole in the wall where the window had been and the walls of the apartments closest to the window had caved in and were beginning to burn.

Mason's heartbeat increased as more adrenaline shot into him and he went right, further down the hall to the door that led to the stairs. He stopped in front of it. He'd barred the door with a steel shaft the previous night just in case things hadn't worked out properly. His pessimism was out the window now and his primary concern was making it back to his room.

Mason pulled the bar off the door and dropped it to the floor haphazardly. He pulled open the door and barked in angry-surprise as a corpse came at him forcefully. There were several more in the stairway behind it. He used his gun to shove it back violently and it tumbled down the stairs, knocking down its followers as it rolled and bounced downward uncontrollably. Without any hesitation, Mason brought up the AKM and emptied the magazine rapidly into their fallen bodies. The bullets pierced their bodies in random uncontrolled places; eliminating some and stunning others. When the AKM clicked empty, he replaced the magazine quickly and let it hang over his chest then drew his M-9. He took a few carefully aimed headshots at the few moving bodies at the bottom of the stairs, then started moving downward; stepping over them carefully.

As Mason came to the bottom of the stairs, more corpses were pushing their way into the stairwell corridor. He shot the first two in the face from less than three yards away; hoping their bodies would slow the ones outside from opening the door as quickly. There were too many, though. The bodies slid out of the way easily as the weight of countless corpses pushed in from the main-floor hallway.

When the door opened enough to reveal the limitless numbers of corpses, Mason holstered the M-9 and raised the AKM again. He raised the barrel to neck-level and held the trigger; fighting the heavy recoil as he moved the barrel side to side. The corpses recoiled stiffly as they were hit by .30 caliber bullets, but as the rotten blood sprayed and a few fell, even more pushed forward to replace them.

The AKM clicked empty and Mason reflexively drew the M-9. He backed up against the wall as he fired as rapidly as possible. The M-9 clicked empty just as fast as the AKM had and Mason holstered it; drawing the .357 Colt Python Elite revolver from the small of his back. He raised the barrel, centered the sights on a forehead, and without cocking the hammer he squeezed the trigger. The smooth-as-butter double-action trigger-pull of the Colt Python did its job and the back of the corpse's head erupted and it fell. Not thinking twice, Mason hopped over the pile of bodies; narrowly missing the reaching hands of his pursuers. He went for the basement door, slamming his shoulder into it as he turned the knob and he stepped inside; slamming the door behind him.

Mason jumped half-way down the stairwell and ran down the rest of the steps; raising the barrel of the Python as he came around the stairwell corner and into the main room of the basement. He scanned quickly, but carefully. There was nothing. He looked around desperately, searching for a way out, but there were no other doors. There were windows just big enough for a person to crawl through, though. He darted to the wall; shaking as he looked for something to climb onto. There was a wooden desk with several sealed, cardboard boxes on it and a bunch of other useless crap. He knocked everything off of the desk top and dragged it over to the wall; climbing onto it quickly and smashing the window with the AK. He looked over his shoulder and swore as he saw the corpses begin to flood the room and he pulled himself through the window; not taking a moment to see how many were out in the street. He slid himself onto his belly and rolled over onto his back; aiming the Python. There were between ten and fifteen corpses spread out unevenly. He got himself onto his knees and put the Python back in its holster. He reloaded the AKM and the Beretta quickly and stood up; moving forward at a brisk walking pace. He looked over his right shoulder at the building as he walked. It was completely on fire now and it seemed tons of corpses had made their way inside and more were trying to follow. He didn't want to impede. He ducked behind a trash-bin and knelt; fading into the darkness.

Mason watched the corpses silently from his hidden position. They were… unbelievably stupid. But they were communication in some animal-like fashion. It seemed when one got excited, all the others nearby got excited as well. It had to be the moans. They had to understand each other to some extent or he'd be able to kill them one by one in the darkness with no response from the others.

Mason watched the fire quietly until it became too hot for his body to handle and the flames exposed his position in the darkness. He moved swiftly from cover to cover, using cars to hide his movement, until he reached his building. He went immediately to the ladder and climbed quickly until he reached the rope ladder, then he made the final slow and careful effort to climb the rest of the way and pull himself inside.

Mason hit the linoleum hard and took a deep breath; trying to stop his panting. That hadn't gone exactly as planned. He hadn't counted on so many being inside the building right off the bat. He walked into his room and to his table; turning the fluorescent lamp on and taking the AR mags out of his pack. He set them on the table and went to the closet; opening the door and grabbing 4 boxes of 7.62 soviet off of the floor. He grabbed a box of 9mm as well and went back out to the table.

Mason reloaded all of his empty magazines and went to his window; staring out at the street. The building was beginning to crumble and it looked like a lot of the corpses from the streets had been caught inside. He wondered how many he'd managed to eliminate. Maybe 200-250. The streets looked less densely packed. There were still a lot of them down there, though. Many of them were sulking around the burning building. Some of them were just staring at it. He strained his vision to see the Humvee he'd blown up. He could just barely see its outline. He put on his Night Vision Goggles and nodded optimistically. There were 25-30 bodies lying around it. There were no doubt many, many more out by the truck he'd blown to bits. Plus, the burning apartment building. Maybe he'd done better than 250. Maybe he'd done 300-350. It was hard to tell. He'd take a closer look some other time when he had the chance.

Mason went back over to the table and grabbed a can of "NOS". He drank it down as fast as he could and then followed it with a blueberry granola bar. He wasn't done for the night. He had a few places to go and look for equipment and supplies, but he wanted to take a break for a few minutes. He had at least nine hours before he had to be out of sight, tucked away into the darkness, away from the sun's exposing rays for his necessary slumber. He didn't like to waste the night, but he didn't like being emotionally spent when he was operating in the field either.

Mason sat down at the table and flipped through the pages of a "Penthouse" magazine as he let his emotional stress level drop to its normal range. He skipped past the blondes and found the closest brunette, drenched in cum from two busted hard-ons. He stared, fascinated by the distinctly unlikely scenario and shook his head. There was no way he could stand next to another guy and ejaculate on a girl's face. Plus, the girl was obviously a low self-esteemed whore. He would be worried if he didn't wrap his pecker… and he surely didn't like to wrap his pecker. It seemed to take all of the fun out of the entire sexual act. In fact, by the time he managed to get one on, his penis usually looked like a midget in a wet-suit.

Mason sighed and threw the magazine onto the floor before pulling the Colt Python revolver from the small of his back and setting it on the table-top before him. He looked over it closely and rubbed his finger on a tiny scratch that was located on the frame right below the cylinder.

"Always." Mason murmured in disgust. It was the most collectible gun he had and the only one that still drew out the "collector" inside him. He never shot it for fun and it was always in the holster and yet there the scratch was, as plain as day. It made his skin burn. It was always the nicest stuff, too. Like it knew that if it got fucked up, the owner would be disappointed. He picked it up off the table and aimed down the sights. It sure was fucking awesome, though. He just had to take care of it and make sure the cylinder stayed in time. Pythons had a bad habit of getting out of time and he didn't need that problem when he was out and about.

Mason slung the AK over his chest again and pulled out the Beretta from his holster. He dropped the magazine, cleared the chamber, and removed the slide. He took out the recoil-spring and the barrel and picked up a small can of REM-Clean off of the table. He sprayed the entirety of the gun down and wiped it all clean, then sprayed it all again with Remington dry-lube before reassembling it. He racked the slide a few times then put the first round into the chamber, let the slide go into battery, and put the full magazine in. He grabbed an empty duffle bag of the floor beneath the table, re-holstered the Beretta, and marched back out into the hall.

Mason climbed out the window and down his ladder as quickly as he could without risking a fall. He hit the pavement below and moved swiftly to the same intersection he'd stopped at before. Only this time, he took a right and disappeared into the darkness; easily avoiding the sporadically positioned corpses moving down the street toward the fire. He swore under his breath and moved slowly; keeping his breathing controlled and slow. It was time to be calm and stay level headed- get where he needed to go without any hiccups. He moved forward with the M-9 in two hands and at the ready and the duffle bag strapped onto his back. There were plenty of rotten-fucks left around in singles, pairs, and massive groups. Guard could never truly be relieved.

Mason thought out loud to himself as he moved and weaved through the wreckage of post-apocalyptic American. He needed bigger booms, more flames, and more wreckage. It wasn't just some obsessive hobby. Until he saw the streets packed with the motionless bodies of his un-dead counterparts, his soul would never rest. He needed to up his game. No nukes of course. He didn't want to leave the world a waste-land for those who came after him. He wanted C-4, Semtex, J-Dams, and bunker-busters to blow from a safe distance. For that he'd need to move out of the city and expand his limits. Where to, though? He had no idea really. He didn't know where all of the military facilities in the states were located. It would be unlikely any explosives would be left after all of this time either. Special Forces teams would likely have inserted to secure their loot by now. He could move to larger propane tanks and fertilizer of course. He could flatten a lot of buildings with a 50 pound bag of cow shit. He'd need long fuses, though. No need to get scattered out amongst the square yardage of a football field. He needed more bullets too. He'd considered looking for a reloading press and the appropriate dyes too, but he'd need powder, bullets, shell-casings, and primers to make anything functional. Everything was complicated. Plus, to make anything substantial, he'd need at least a Dillon 550 automated press so he could put out buckets of bullets at a time.

That wasn't all Mason thought of. He pondered about how desperately he needed fuel for his generator. He'd checked cars here and there and the gas-stations closest to his building. They'd been empty for the most-part. Search parties had likely been through before he'd settled down. He was paying for it.

Mason's thoughts died down as he moved and eventually, he came to a large parking-lot and settled beside an abandoned car. He looked over the building across the lot and smiled slyly. It was the hospital. It held everything he truly desired. At least it did at its best.

Mason's hands began to tremble. Codeine, Morphine, and everything else his mind relied on to take off the stress lie within that building. He swallowed hard and shook his head; sliding down the side of the car to the pavement with his eyes closed. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and took a deep breath; checking his surroundings carefully. He needed to get in and out. The Pharmacy, the Clinic, and the emergency room were the areas he needed to search and that was not up for debate. There would be plenty surprises waiting for him as it were and any unnecessary deviation from his plan would only increase those chances.

Mason got up into a crouch again and looked over the hood of the blue Chevy cobalt. The Parking lot was littered sporadically with everything from garbage and debris, to motionless, dried out dead bodies. The cabs of the dozens of parked, abandoned, and crashed cars told a similar story. Bodies were still strapped into seat belts, or just sitting motionlessly in their seats. There was a van that had caught fire at some point sitting in the loading zone at the front entrance. The remains of its passengers were clearly visible through Mason's Night Vision Goggles. The people who had been killed in the wake of the outbreak were sadly the least of his concern.

Mason scanned the wandering un-dead quickly to get a rough count. There were about 40 of them walking aimlessly through the parking lot. Their heads cocked awkwardly as their motionless eyes scanned for movement.

Mason cocked the Beretta's hammer back and pulled his Besh-Wedge out of its sheath. He just had to make sure none of them saw him and none of them-

A mass of gunfire erupted in the distance. It had to be at least half way across the city from him, but Mason's concern exploded in his mind. It was heavy, at least a .50 and a mixed bag of small-arms fire. Without another moment of hesitation, Mason looked over the parking-lot again. All the corpses had paused and were cocking their heads back and forth stupidly then, suddenly, they began to move.

"Fuck me." Mason spat and looked around frantically. He wouldn't fit under the Cobalt, but he had to find cover somewhere. He darted forward toward a 4x4 and a corpse moaned as it stepped into his path. Mason Jammed his knife blade into its neck right below its jaw-line with the blade angled upward and reached around behind its head and grabbed its jaw firmly. Pushing with his other hand and pulling strongly with the first, he twisted its head until the neck made a resounding "pop" and he threw its body to the ground.

Another corpse came immediately from Mason's front and he raised the Beretta; placing a round right through its eye. He pivoted to the left and with one hand shot another in the nasal-area as it came from the other side of the 4x4. As it fell, he ran up to the truck and rolled under it; his eyes darting back and forth as he checked his security-bubble to make sure nothing else was following closely behind him. He watched quietly as countless corpses walked by the truck; paying no attention to Mason's victims. They mindlessly continued their walk toward the volley of gunfire erupting in the distance.

Mason lay still for several minutes before daring to moving. He slowly crept out from under the truck and looked around cautiously. He could hear moans in the distance cutting through the wailing of the wind. He slowly scanned the parking-lot again. There was no movement, but he knew that numbers of the dead still remained; roaming the hospital in desperation.

Mason moved quickly amongst the abandoned vehicles in the parking-lot and ran past the burned van up to the front entrance. The glass of the front doorway was shattered and he ran straight through without hesitating. Once inside, he stopped and looked down the halls to his left, right, and front. There was nothing. Not even a distant moan.

Mason moved down the hallway that led to his right. He kept his gun at the ready; not up, but tucked at his side with both hands holding the grip and frame appropriately. He had no idea where he was going, but the signs would lead him. He continued forward up a slight incline; his eyes and ears searching the empty, grimy hall that had once been bright and polished. He was amazed at the amount of dirt and mud on the floors. He could see where countless feet had dragged and stepped dirt and mud everywhere and just like outside there was garbage and debris scattered randomly like someone had walked through wit ha garbage bag full and dropped it here and there.

Mason came to the end of the hall and crouched. He could hear dragging footsteps around the corner down a ways. He put his shoulder against the painted over brick and stuck his head out. There were four of them wandering, blinded by the pitch blackness. He stepped around the corner, knowing they couldn't see him and aimed. He shot the closest one in the back of the head where the skull meets the neck and it toppled forward. The others turned toward the sound and moaned, but Mason held his ground. He shot the next in the forehead off-center and it teetered sideways and smashed into the floor.

With two of the corpses down, Mason moved forward quietly, staying out of the direct line of either of the two remaining. He took the third from its right side; kicking it forcefully in the side of the knee and knocking it to the floor. Without paying any more attention to it, he moved to the fourth and shoved it sideways; pivoting and getting behind it. He grabbed its head firmly with both hands and twisted it awkwardly; gritting his teeth as he forced it to pop. He dropped it to the floor and moved back to the third one that was trying to get up. He kicked it in the back, forcing it back to the floor, and stomped on the back of its neck; snapping it and ending its struggle.

Mason moved further down the hall and came to another intersection. He could keep going straight, or head right. He went straight; purposely avoiding the uphill walkway that had glass-windows lining its entire route to his right. The wrong lighting could lead to an entire horde spotting him and moving in. If that happened, it could very well be game over for him and whomever his hobby of mass destruction could aid.

Mason moved forward a few more yards and scanned a sign at ceiling level as he came to several doorways. One read "emergency room" and one read "clinic lobby." He sighed and looked at both a few times. He didn't really know where to go. He shrugged and went through the first: the Clinic.

Mason paused upon his first step into the waiting-room. It wasn't a foot-step or a moan that caught his cautious-attention. It was that gunfire from outside. It was grown louder and closer. He grumbled a curse under his breath and looked this way and that quietly as he walked across the room to an appointment-desk. The office behind it was a wreck with papers strewn everywhere and the chairs turned over. A dried up body lay on the floor on its side with one arm stretched out. The legs and part of its lower half were missing.

Mason checked over his shoulder quickly before climbing over the desk and into the nurses' station. This was where anything useful would be waiting to be grabbed by any sucker stupid enough to go looking for it. He took a deep breath as he walked to the back of the room and saw cabinets with locks on them. They all remained untouched. He pulled out his knife and walked to the first cabinet; jamming his blade into it and prying it open. He scoffed at the contents; Viagra samples and other useless odds and ends medications. He quickly moved to the next and repeated the break-in process; this time pausing as he scanned several bottles.

"Methadone, and Codeine." Mason whispered. There were three bottles amongst the rest of the clutter. He took them from the cupboard and put them into his shoulder bag before breaking open another cabinet. He pulled all the contents out onto the floor and scowled as he stepped over the mess and walked down a short hall into a room with a sink in all four corners and a tile floor. He looked at the ceiling as he walked in. All the lighting had been fluorescent. It was a pity none of it worked.

Mason paused and looked to his right. There were several refrigerators lining the wall. He walked to the first and opened the door. he bent over and looked over the contents. Not much. There were prescription medicines that needed to be refrigerated and somebody's lunch along with things he couldn't pronounce.

Mason moved on and went through the fridges one by one until he came to the last and yanked it open. It was the same as the others: things he wouldn't know how to use, but there were several tiny little boxes. he grabbed one and read the label. "Novolin R. Human Dna." He paused. "Novolin." It was insulin... for Diabetics. Just like Eric had been. Mason put it back and closed the refrigerator door. He wasn't going to steal insulin. Some other poor, afflicted soul might come looking for it. He paused before he turned away. How many bottles were there? He opened the door again and counted. There were eight bottles of several different types. He took the one he'd read and put it in his pack, then grabbed another random one. Strange things happened out in the shit. It was best to be prepared.

A burst of rifle fire caused Mason to freeze. He felt the color rush from his face and he stepped quickly back into the far left corner of the room; blending into the darkness. He looked silently at the hall he'd come in through, out to the lobby. The fire had echoed in from the main hall. All he really needed to do was stay still. No one would see him without a light, or Night Vision goggles. Unfortunately, there was a 50/50 chance of whether or not they had either. The unknown operator was moving around at night after all.

Mason closed his eyes and took a deep breath as voices began to speak anxiously between bursts of fire. The level of tension in their voices allowed Mason's adrenaline to lower and his breathing to become steady. He was in control of the situation. Not them.

"Hog Flight, this is Warthog- requesting immediate CAS at grid coordinates hotel, Charlie 7,3,3,8!"

"Six of 'em, two o'clock- closing." A few slow shots followed.

"They're setting up a perimeter out there."

"Yeah, let 'em. They know where the fuck we are and they're confident. That'll be the fucking end of them." The voice continued.

"Gavin, you and Will give me some cover down that back hall- We need to get out of this shit. It's all fucking windows. Nathan, cover the entrance- I'm getting sick of them getting this close."

"They're still coming through the front door!"

"Back here too, more than one!" Shots began to ring out very rapidly and Mason's heart began thumping very loudly. He was going to become surrounded as a result of massive, un-silenced rifle fire. His other option didn't sound wonderful either though- an unknown force outside that for all he knew would shoot him on sight. If it were any type of Military vehicle they were in, it would surely have Night Vision and he'd be dead on any open ground between the hospital and the surrounding concrete jungle.

_"Warthog, this is Hog Flight- closing in on your location. ETA is seven minutes."_

"Be advised Hog Flight, this will be danger close! I say again, this will be danger close! Keep it on target. How copy?"

_"Copy loud and clear, Warthog. Move to cover."_

Mason swallowed and took a deep breath as he leaned his head back. He had to see what these guys looked like. Who could possibly have air support other than Federal Troops? Sure, it was possible that someone had organized a militia to that level, but not very likely. It would at least be based on a military model and likely motivated by the same desire and dedication as before the fall of the government in its perfect form. What if they were Special Forces, or even CIA or NSA operatives? If he ignored them, he would always wonder what kind of chance he'd thrown away. He moved away from his position in the refrigerator room and moved into the reception area quietly; staying low to avoid changing the rays of any ambient light. When he reached the front desk, he stepped up and took a deep breath; putting his weight onto it and slowly pulling himself up and then stepping down on the opposite side.

"There's too fucking many!" Rapid fire erupted in the hall and Mason froze. He didn't want to be mistaken for a corpse, or whoever was in pursuit of these mysterious soldiers. He also didn't want to let his chance for an optimistic partnership to go to waste either. After all, he hadn't spoken with a person in months. and his desire to socialize had become another form of savage desperation. It wasn't like sex; His body hadn't just turned the urge off entirely. He dreamed of simply seeing another living person every night; to touch them, to smell their breath and to see the life inside their gaze.

Mason breathed in deep and froze. He knew it was almost guaranteed that if he said a word, they would waste him. But to be wasted by countrymen rather that un-dead ghouls? It was worth it. He moved up against the wall next to the doorway that lead into the hall. The rapid muzzle flashes were lighting up the room like a small pyrotechnic show put-on in a High School science lab. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath knowing it could be his last.

"Please don't shoot!" Mason said loudly but calmly. "I have three guns with ammo to spare! I wont do shit to you, I swear to God!"

Before Mason could think he was thrown to the ground with his arms pinned behind his back. He felt severe pain in his elbow as it was twisted and a knee ground into the back of his neck as he was rough handled by more than one man. A set of plastic cuffs were put around his wrists before they stepped off of him.

"Get his gear and secure him- double time it!" The men pulled Mason's AKM away from him, and un-holstered both his pistols. They ripped his bag away from his chest and pulled him up, so he was sitting.

Mason looked at his newly found rough-handling friends. They were obviously special forces and in no way green or pussy-footed. They'd been living outside the walls of any safe-house for as long as he had.

"Gavin," The man who was obviously in charge said with a his gruff and stern voice. He sounded concerned, but driven. Mason could feel confidence rising within him as he observed the dark haired, bearded man, "In the doorway here supporting Nathan. Will," The leader looked at Mason then back at will with a pause, "Figure out who he is."

The leader moved quickly back into the hall and Will turned to Mason. He was a late twenties African American with bushy eye brows and a goatee. He had concern but compassion in his eyes. He kept a conscious two yards between him and Mason with an H&K Mk.23 pulled against his chest, ready to make a precisely delivered lethal-shot if necessary.

"Are you injured?" Will asked over the gunfire as it continued to erupt sporadically from the hall.

"No," Mason shook his head calmly, "And I understand your rough handling. But we need to move immediately and I have a secure location where you can lie low. Please come with me, or we're never going to get out of here."

"You need to relax for a minute while I figure out who the hell you are. Who are you here with?"

"No one. My name is Mason Krauss. I'm from Galveston, Texas and I'm a Student at the University of Ohio in Columbus. I live a couple miles away right now and if you'd follow me there," Mason smirked calmly, "you'll find it's much more relaxing there than it is here."

"I don't know if you heard Pierce, but we've got some hot JDAM shit about to rain down on those motherfuckers outside. You want to leave, I guess that's your business. But I'm going to sit here with a little bit of cover and wait for the waves of God's wrath to roll over and remind these optimistic motherfuckers about the end of times." He stared confidently into Mason's eyes.

"That," Mason grinned with all the life he could muster, "is all the preaching I need until the end of times really arrive."

"We're relocating, move it!" Pierce interrupted them; stepping into the room and past Gavin quickly. "Gavin, pull up the rear. Nathan, on me. Let's fucking go." Pierce looked at Will as he stepped walked past him and Mason. "Is he good?"

"Yeah he's good, man." Will said as he stood up. He motioned to Mason stand. "Get up, man so I can cut that shit."

"We are heading to higher ground RIGHT NOW!" Pierce moved to the back of the room and opened the door that lead to the emergency room treatment area and Nathan charged in with Gavin close behind him as Will slashed Mason's plastic cuffs. Mason turned to him and Will handed him his AK, then motioned toward his pistols on the floor.

"Stay close." Will nodded and Mason looked at him seriously. As Will moved away toward behind Pierce, Mason hastily grabbed his sidearm and followed the disappearing operators into the treatment area.

As Mason entered the littered hall, he pulled the AKM close to his shoulder. He reassured himself that the chamber was loaded and lowered the barrel to the floor- trying to focus on both his surroundings and the shadow of Will straight ahead of him. He had to stay close and he knew it. These professionals would not wait for an amateur lagging behind. It wasn't worth it for them or their mission.

"We've got about two fucking minutes!" Pierce barked. "Stay fucking frosty in this shit!"

Mason felt his heart beating louder and louder until finally he heard automatic fire erupt down the hall ahead of him. he caught up to the group as a couple of lingering corpses were dropped to the ground in heaps and Gavin opened another doorway.

"Inside!" Gavin yelled forcefully; waving Mason in. Mason ran past him into the room just as gunfire erupted again. This time, Mason joined in with Nathan and Will as Peirce and Gavin pulled up the rear.

They'd made their way into the adjacent Clinic lobby through a side-access door... and it was packed.

Mason stared at the front sight of the AK as he passed it over the faces of the countless approaching coprses. The gun barked and recoiled almost uncontrollably as 7.52x39mm Full Metal jackets and intermixed soft-points were launched out of the AKM's barrel at supersonic speeds. Beside him, will was firing an FN SCAR and Nathan was laying heavy support with a Mk.48 with a mounted Aimpoint comp 4.

The carnage spewed as Mason scowled. His teeth clenched as heads ruptured and split and half-clotted blood spewed over him and his comrades as the AKM's stock recoiled against his shoulder.

"Get some!" Mason finally yelled as his AKM clicked empty. He drew the Python as a corpse stepped up to him and he pressed the barrel against its eye socket. He blew its brains out and brought the front sight to the next nearest corpse- blowing it's brain stem out the back of its head with a 154 grain full metal jacket.

Nathan stepped up next to Mason with the Mk.48 blazing and Mason quickly reholstered the Python; reloading the AKM as bodies fell before him in rapid succession. His ears pounded along with the muzzle flashes and the gushes of darkened blood splattering on himself and the checkered floor as he racked the bolt and shouldered the gun again. He raised the barrel and again began firing as Pierce, Gavin, and Will passed behind him.

"Around the corner to the stairs!" Pierce yelled. "Break contact and we'll cover!"

The wave of swarming dead seemed endless, but Mason and Nathan held them back and the rapid wave of fire picked up as The rest of the team made it to the other side of the lobby and joined in the fight.

"Move it, move!" Will yelled as he sprayed out rounds from his M4A1 and Nathan broke contact- sprinting across the gap their fire had made in the dense, undead swarm. Mason stopped firing and attempted to do the same, but just then, both Pierce and Gavin went dry and the swarm pushed inward and created an un-penetrable barrier between them and Mason.

"Go!" Mason screamed as he quickly reloaded and stepped backwards. He felt a presence behind him as a corpse stepped up to bite and he swung the butt of his AKM into its face; forcing it sideways and to the floor.

As he swung, Mason saw another access doorway and sprinted toward it. He pulled it open as the swarm pressed toward both him and his comrades on the other end of the hall. He stepped into the back room of the clinic lobby and as the door closed the automatic fire from the hall became muffled and he felt suddenly alone. He pressed forward; feeling his determination grow. There was always another way upstairs in a hospital- at least five or six. Most were usually public, but every so often there was one only for service personnel and staff.

Mason's gaze shot back and forth; searching for a hall the would lead back to an access aread but it seemed everything was dark, cluttered cubicles and dark halls leading to nowhere. He fought back against his debilitating pessimism and took a right between a group of cubicles toward a dark hall that lead to a mysterious doorway to nowhere. As he darted forward, a set of hands grabbed his midsection and his eyes widened as he was taken to the ground.

Mason fought wildly as he felt hands pulling at him. He rolled over with the assailant still grabbing and pulling at him and he grabbed at the assailants face violently. In the dull light he could see the outline of long, wavy hair and he grabbed at it; pulling the head back. As it fought him, he pulled out his knife and jabbed the blade into its eye socket and twisted violently back and forth and around in a circular motion. After a moment, it became motionless and he rolled it off of him and climbed to his feet.

Without wasting a moment, Mason continued quickly toward the darkened hallway. He could see the outline of a door, but that was it. he grumbled in disgust as he fumbled for his Night Vision goggles and grunted in surprise as he tripped over something heavy on the floor. He caught himself on the wall and flipped down the goggles; looking toward what he'd almost lost himself over. It was the shriveled, half-body of an eight or nine year old child. A grimace has formed permanently on its face- stained teeth forced into a painful smile. Mason swallowed and shook it off; opening door behind him and stepping into an access stairwell.

Mason glanced at the descending staircase and then the ascending stair-case. Pierce had mentioned higher ground, so going up made obvious sense. Mason took one step onto the stairs and jumped in surprised horror as a massive boom, followed by another massive boom ripped through the building, causing it to shake dramatically and dust to fall from the ceiling seven floors up at the top of the stairwell.

"JDAM." Mason whispered as he swallowed and tried to control his rapidly beating heart. He continued to ascension up the stairs and reached the second-floor landing- ignoring the second-floor access door as he ran past it and onto the next set of steps. As he came to the landing between floors two and three he heard the first floor door open down below and slam a few moments later. It seemed he hadn't slipped away unnoticed.

Without much thought Mason continued up each flight of steps with his eyes searching carefully as he took each corner on the fly. There wasn't that much of a chance that a walker would be hanging around in the confines of the stairwell, but simply canceling out the possibility could cost him his life. He simply kept the Beretta ready; hoping the keep himself as un-noticeable as possible.

_Four... five... six-_ Mason counted as he came to each floor's access door. The hospital was a large one, but he didn't think it could be more than eight or nine stories. As he came to the seventh floor Mason could hear muffled gunfire and he paused to listen, but couldn't tell where it was from. It got quieter and quieter and he moved quickly up the stairs again. They had to be headed toward the roof, but why? The only viable explanation was that they had a roof-top pickup planned. He _had _ to be there when it happened. They wouldn't wait for him- not for a random individual that was with them for less than five minutes.

Mason came to the top of the stairs and looked around desperately. He was on the top level for sure, but there was no roof-access.

"Fuck, fuck!" Mason barked desperately. He began to feel sick with desperation and opened the ninth floor access doorway and stepped into the hall. Immediately, a corpse moaned and stepped around a food cart to come toward him. Mason punched it in the head and it fell backwards and he turned left and ran down the hall in the opposite direction. A moment later he heard gunfire erupt down the hall from him. He could see muzzle flashes faintly lighting up the windows at the end of the hallway then it stopped again and he sprinted toward it.

The fire picked up again as Mason got to the end of the hall and again turned left. There were several bodies lying on the floor and several corpses pushing their way in from the stairwell the Operators had come up only moments before. Mason opened up on them with the AKM and they shook as they were pierced in multiple places by the supersonic bullets, but they didn't fall.

Mason sent another fifteen round burst into the one closest to him and it fell backwards as he ran by it; narrowly missing the reaching hands of another closing corpse. Mason picked up his speed and listened desperately for his friends, but they weren't firing. He looked around desperately- looking for roof-access signs. There was nothing. Just references to room numbers.

Mason roared in terror and frustration and turned around to face where he'd come from. Seven or eight corpses were approaching in a scattered group. Mason aimed low and held the trigger. Five or six rounds came out and impacted pelvic bones and thighs before the AKM clicked empty. Mason grunted in anger and reloaded- throwing the empty magazine to floor carelessly and hinging-in the next magazine. He racked the bolt just as the corpses were stepping up to him and he stuck in into the face of a long haired woman. Her face and head ruptured as a flurry of bullets penetrated her facial structure and obliterated it. Mason just walked the fire onto the next two closest heads and they reacted similarly with gobs and streams of partially clotted blood spattering on everything. The gun clicked empty once again and Mason drew the Python; cocking the hammer as he raised the barrel and centered the sights on another face.

Mason froze as it moaned at him. It was a dead boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen. He swallowed hard as his memory screamed at him and horrid guilt began to boil inside his heart. He began to shake as he heard the screams and cries of the young boy he'd murdered inside his head; beckoning him toward complete self destruction viable only by suicide. He clenched his teeth and his lip curled and twitched and he grunted quietly. His finger squeezed and the dead child's brains were forced through a large exit wound on the lower half of its skull.

Mason watched the corpse tumble to the floor lifelessly and he turned around and headed down the hall again; his gaze dancing all over everything. He jogged past a Nurse's station and took another left. There was no sign of anyone, but he had to be close. He brought himself to a full sprint and got to the end of that hall. There was a small doorway at the end with a sign beside it. It read: _Roof Access: Authorized Personnel Only. _

Mason kicked the door and it swung open. He ran up the short set up steps and went through another door. As he stepped outside, a chopper was lifting off.

"HEEEEEEEERE!" Mason roared; waving one arm wildly with wide eyes and a painful grimace.

The door gunner in the Black Hawk made eye contact first, then Pierce and Will. Pierce began to yell at the pilot and make the motion of putting the bird down again. Mason began to run forward and the bird began to slowly descend. All eyes were on him with everyone who was capable providing cover as he approached.

Mason looked up at them and felt himself begin to grin. Every foot step shuttered loudly inside his head like an explosion. He could hear nothing and see nothing but the chopper. He dropped the AKM and began to slow down. They were coming for him. He made it... for once.

Massive tracer fire ripped through the air and the chopper shuttered and pulled away as multiple rounds hit it.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Mason shrieked as the chopper pulled away and the door gunner returned fire with a mini-gun. He watched Pierce's eyes staring at him in sad disappointment and he became smaller and smaller as the chopper made its forced escape into the dark horizon.

Mason's body shook with incomprehensible disappointment as the chopper became another horrid memory of "too little, too late." He felt himself begin to hyperventilate. He bent over and put his hands on his knees; taking a deep breath and holding it. He clenched his eyes shut and he felt pressure building in his head like a bomb inside a bus.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Mason roared as his anger exploded out of him. He turned around and looked at his AKM. He walked up to it and scooped it off of the ground. The moment had become about rage rather than recollection as Mason reloaded the gun and set his sights on the roof-access doorway.

"K...-ki-ki... mmmmm- kill 'em." Mason chattered in uncontrollable rage as he walked to the door. "Kill 'em all, kill 'em... kill 'em right down to the fuckin' ground." He was hardly seven yards from the roof-access door when it slowly opened and a corpse attempted to step onto the roof.

"Bang!" Mason chirped and blew it's head in half. As it fell another was exposed. Mason didn't fire. He walked right up to it and grabbed its head firmly. It fought back as he slammed its face into the hand-rail that ran up the steps one, two, then three times. He shoved it to his feet and slammed the back of its neck with his foot; separating its spine from its skull.

Another corpse grabbed at Mason's midsection and he kicked it in the chest; shoving it backwards violently and it crashed into the corpses following from the landing. They tumbled like bowling pins and Mason took a deep breath as he raised the AKM. He emptied it into the corpses lying in a mess on the floor and the bullets each found a target, rupturing spleens, livers, kidneys and the like while others shattered bones and created paralyzed corpses damned to remaining self-aware in the same spot until the end of time.

Mason reloaded the AKM by the time he was down three steps. Instead of wasting anymore ammo on the nearly immobile, crawling corpses on the floor, he let it hang over his chest and drew the Beretta. He aimed at each one that was moving one at a time- punching little holes in each cranium quietly until the only movement was the searching eyes of each paraplegic corpse. Mason left them to their fate and opened the ninth floor access door.

Mason stepped back in surprise when he was presented with more than thirty shuffling bodies. They piled toward him and he swore under his breath as he ran back up the surface access stairwell and ran to the edge of the roof. There was a twelve-foot drop to the next part of the building and there were several more similar drops before a very long thirty-foot drop. He looked over his shoulder as the door opened and sighed. He had to go.

Mason climbed over the side of the building and hung down and let go. He landed fairly comfortably on the rooftop below and repeated two more times before stopping to really see where he was. He could see the parking-lot before him. A lot of it was smoldering and a majority of the vehicles that had been there when he came in were tossed and turned over. There was also a turned-over APC and two burning HMMWV humvees that had been completely destroyed.

Mason eyed the APC and walked to the edge of the roof. It seemed the next drop was more akin to fifteen or twenty feet. He looked around for a better way down, but there wasn't one. He took a deep breath and looked back over his shoulder. The corpses had begun to follow him over the ledges. They weren't fairing well either. After each ledge, less and less were walking and those that were, were walking much slower than they had before with bones jutting of their skin, ripping free of their rotting flesh.

Mason stared at the corpses and frowned before turning his attention back to the parking-lot. There were bodies scattered like debris as expected; the 500 pounds bombs didn't leave much to discuss. And much to Mason's surprise, masses of replacement corpses hadn't moved in. The parking lot was for the most part still empty. It wasn't entirely abandoned, and more corpses would always be lingering to create hiccups in planning, but they weren't in waves.

Mason hovered at at the final ledge; gazing down at the pavement some 30 feet below. "I'm gonna be shitting my teeth for a couple days." Mason grunted. He eyed the edge of the entire roof-line until his gaze stopped at a sturdy-looking storm drain that led down to the ground. His desperation let up a little as he ran up to it and knelt on his knees. He grabbed it and shook it to make sure it was firmly in place, and looked over his shoulder again. The first corpse to take the last ledge to Mason's level had taken the fall and was getting up. Now was the time to go.

Mason got onto his stomach and slid over the edge. He grabbed the storm-drain firmly and let his weight slide his body the rest of the way off of the hospital rooftop. His eyes bulged and his arm muscles screamed as he fought the weight of his gear from dragging his body to a 20 foot plummet. He wouldn't die, but the injuries he could sustain would make him less mobile and much more defenseless to the onslaught of flesh-hungry ghouls.

As Mason neared the half point, he saw a body plummet past him toward the earth. He heard it impact and snickered under his breath. He hated the dead to no end and found their existence and presence no more than irritating and frustrating, but every so often, the retardation that represented would pry some furious laughter from the depths of his psyche.

Before Mason made it to the grassy courtyard below, several more corpses plummeted past him. They weren't all mobile after they hit, but two or three were shuffling around with determination as Mason set his feet on the ground and they turned their gaze to him; moaning as their eyes locked onto their prey.

Mason's demeanor became aggressively defensive as the corpses took their positions of pursuit. They never really realized it, but they seemed to position themselves into a sort of security net when they were numbered and after their pray; always a few feet apart and always at the same speed.

Mason drew a Karambit, angled tactical knife from his left side and walked aggressively up to the first corpse. It groaned wildly as he stepped up to it and it through its hands out to grab him. Mason deflected its arms to his right side and slammed the tip of the blade into its neck at the bottom of its jaw-line. He jarred the knife violently and threw the body to the ground at his side. Without a moments hesitation his eyes went to those of the second corpse that had halted. It hesitated momentarily and shambled forward and Mason front kicked at it's left shin with rapid aggression, it stumbled to it's knees and Mason shot forward; grabbing its throat. He pushed it back so it was leaning with no way to fight back and it grabbed at his wrists, but he slammed the knife into its left eye socket at it's movements became none.

Mason yanked the knife from the second corpse and looked over his left shoulder at the corpses that were trying to move, but weren't able to stand. He ignored them and looked off toward the parking lot. A lot of vehicles had been launched by the bombs of the Air Support, resulting in a maze of wreckage and burning remnants of vehicle. He kept himself calm as he looked at the wrecks. Along the outer edge of the lot, there were a few service vehicles not moving: two humvees and a Bradley fighting vehicle. They hadn't been there when he'd come in.

Mason readjusted the AKM on his shoulder and moved off in the direction of the Army trucks. The numbers of the dead had receded to an odd low with only a few of them noticeable in Mason's Night Vision Set. He kept his eyes on them and his surroundings as he walked forward quietly with his Beretta gripped tightly at a low-ready.

Mason felt the heat of burning vehicles penetrate his uniform as he made his way through the maize of wreckage. He had belt-fed mg's and ammunition for his M16a4's in mind. It had been a while since he'd been able to feed them and having a far more accurate system with more flexibility for sighting systems was a serious asset. He past a large, burning van and relaxed his he came within fifteen yards of the first humvee. He walked up to it and looked over his shoulder before kneeling down at taking a closer look into the cab. There were four dead men inside, all dressed in a mixture of different camouflages and gear. Two had AR-style rifles and one had a Mossberg 500 persuader and one had a Remington 700 with a Bushnell scope.

Mason forced the driver's door open and reached inside and grabbed the driver. He pulled his body out and onto the ground and wasted no time opening the pouches on his tactical vest. He quickly pulled seven full Stanag magazines from the man's vest along with three Glock 17 magazines from his belt. Mason put them in his back and walked around the other side of the humvee and opened the door. He again pulled the body out and emptied the contents of his tactical vest. He retrieved five more Stanag magazines and two Beretta magazines in addition to an M6 fragmentation grenade.

Mason climbed inside the humvee to reach the other two bodies. He didn't move these two from their positions; only opening their cargo pockets. To his happiness there were four more mags of assorted 9mm and .40 caliber ammunition to be taken and thirty rounds of .30-06 and forty-two rounds of assorted 12-gauge buck and slugs.

Mason climbed back out of the humvee and eyed the turret. There was no MG. It was obviously prepared for one. It had been removed either before, or after the truck had been immobilized. Regardless of his disappointment, Mason didn't dwell on it. He turned to the other two wrecks. One humvee and the Bradley was left, He gazed at the Humvee for a moment, but his real desire lay in the Bradley. If anything unique were to be had, it would be in there. He'd hit the Humvee last.

Mason checked his surroundings carefully and approached the rear of the Bradley. The rear door was slightly damaged and partially opened. He peeked inside and grinned. There were six bodies inside and each was heavily armed. One had an M249 SAW and had the ammunition to compliment it. Mason grabbed the door and pulled. It didn't move an inch. The bomb had partially crumpled the body of the fighting vehicle and there was no way to open the rear hatch. He looked to the top of the Bradley and sighed. The top hatch was open. He could easily get inside there.

Mason climbed onto the top of the Bradley and looked inside. The commander was at the bottom lying on the floor. His face and upper body were ravage; as side effect of large explosions. Mason climbed in, feet first, and let himself drop onto the commander's body. He looked at the immobile corpses before him. They weren't soldiers, just a bunch of armed men with a purpose; good or bad. Mason didn't have any particular feelings about them, though he was disgusted by the fact that they had shot at his Army companions. He took a deep breath, shrugged, and moved forward. There was equipment to be had.

Mason dug for several minutes; ripping open bags and moving bodies side to side as he attempted to access every pocket and pack. He happily slipped another Stanag magazine into his pocket when his ears suddenly perked up. He could hear engines approaching.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Mason chimed nervously. Where was his AK? His eyes darted nervously. He'd lost it in his frenzied search. He began to shake as his adrenaline sky-rocketed and he spat; moving toward the turret at lightening-speed. As he rose through the access-hole he counted six walkers within thirty-yards. He climbed onto the APC's roof and dropped down the side to his feet as he drew the Beretta. He sent a round into a young-man's rotting face and glanced with wide-eyes over his shoulder. He could see lights now. His mind and heart slowed down and his eyes went to the nearest humvee. He darted for it and opened the passenger's door. He pulled the body out of the seat just as a Black SUV and a set of Humvee's pulled up. He glanced up as he started to pump on the dead soldier's chest with both hands. Shots rang out as men poured out of the vehicles and a corpses began to hit the pavement.

"He was just fucking breathing!" Mason fibbed with desperation in his voice. A man walked up next to him as Mason staged his rescue and shot the body in the head. Mason stopped, his hands shaking wildly and looked up as the soldier leaned down so his face was close to Mason's. He was older, maybe fifty-five, with gray hair and stubble. A Beret was sitting neatly on his head.

"We don't have the time to handle the mortally wounded, son." The man said calmly as he re-holstered his sidearm; a nickel 1911. He smirked. "And you're not one of mine. Mind explaining to me what you're doing?"

"I heard the shooting." Mason stammered; noting how oddly nervous he had become. "I- I haven't seen people in... months." He looked desperately at the man. "I thought I was- too late."

"For them, you are." The man said passively. "But for me you may not be." He looked away from Mason carelessly and whistled to a couple of armed, uniformed men standing by one of the humvees. "Put him with the others!" He looked back at Mason and sighed. "If you've been alone, then your good on your feet, son and you'll be fine when we test you. If not... well then we'll know, won't we?"

Mason looked at the men approaching him and swallowed. He hadn't made a well-rounded decision.


End file.
